There are many volunteers among us who selflessly dedicate their time to helping those in need. They open their homes, they open their hearts to offer other living beings the highest quality of life available to them. These volunteers share a passion to make a difference, and they do so every day.

To all the volunteers in this network of humane animal rescue and adoption, for all those lives you have touched, our little friends and I thank you!

Rescue Me

Rescue me not only with your hands,
but with your heart as well. I will respond to you.
 Rescue me not out of pity, but out of love.
I will love you back.
 Rescue me not with self-righteousness,
but with compassion. I will learn what you teach.
 Rescue me not because of my past,
but because of my future. I will relax and enjoy.
 Rescue me not simply to save me,
but to give me a new life. I will appreciate your gift.
 Rescue me not only with a firm hand,
but with tolerance and patience. I will please you.
 Rescue me not only because of who I am,
but who I'm to become. I will grow and mature."

- ** -

Today I Made A Difference

I'll never bring about world peace. I won't single handedly save the rain forest. I'm not a brain surgeon and I'll never transplant an organ to save a life. I don't have the ear of a powerful
politician or world power. I can't end world hunger. I'm not a celebrity, and God knows I'm not glamorous! I'm not looked up to by millions around the world. Very few people even recognize my name. I'll never win the Nobel prize. I"ll never save the rain forest or end global warming. There are a lot of things that I'll never do or become.

But today I placed a dog!

It was a small, scared, bundle of flesh and bones that was dropped off in a shelter by unfeeling people that didn't care what happened to it, but yet who were responsible for it even having
existence in the first place.

I found it a home.

It now has contentment and an abundance of love. A warm place to sleep and plenty to eat. Two little boys have a warm fuzzy new friend who will give them unquestioning devotion and teach
them about responsibility and love.

A wife and mother has a new spirit to nurture and care for.

 A husband and a father has a companion to sit at his feet at the end of a hard day of work and help him relax and enjoy life. And a sense of security, that when he is gone all day at work, that there is a protector and a guardian in his home to keep watch over his family.
 
No, I'm not a rocket scientist. But today, I made a difference!

- ** -

How Could You?

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you  laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.  Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How  could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

 My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more  perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice
 cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you
 said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home
 at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her  into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was  happy because you were happy.

Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me.

These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the  subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal  shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home  for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I  worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about  friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to  meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy  schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.

At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream ... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention
 of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the
 end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room.

She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to
 worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but  there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of  days.

As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she  bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

 She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.

She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the  sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"  Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry."

She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so
 very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life  continue to show you so much loyalty.

A Note from the Author, Jim Willis:

If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.