all you rescues can relate, others will as well

[Petunia]

Posted by Paul Klusman**, animal lover, a friend of his wrote this:

http://petsweekly.wordpress.com/201...thorse-ill/?blogsub=confirming#subscribe-blog


**who is probably best known for this video on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHXBL6bzAR4

 

[jorats]

Great post!

 

[SQ]

Excellent letter. One reason why I now respond to many kijiji ads with info on how to have their rat humanely pts if they can't find a good home. Life sucks.

Lately, the most common email I’ve been receiving (and I know that every rescue in the world is dealing with this as well because I’m on all their mailing lists) reads something like this:

“I have a dog (or cat, or rabbit, or bird, or child) I must give up. I have been trying to find him (or her or it) a home for some time but have run out of time. Can you take him? Otherwise I will have to take him to the pound (or the vet to have him destroyed, or to my friend’s where he’ll most certainly die a horrible death).”

Sorry folks, but this type of “plea” just absolutely pisses me off.

Guess what, Judas - I don’t care about you anymore…

That’s right. You have finally broken me. You’ve harassed me to a point that these emails have very little effect on me. I have become jaded.

You brought this animal into your home when they were cute and adorable. You watched them grow up. You gave them a feeling of security, a family – you gave them purpose.

Sure, you care about them. But the second your life gets a little tough, you just give them up. You cast them aside like yesterday’s newspaper and think, “We’ll get another one when things calm down.”

You leave them to potentially horrid fates at the hands of animal abusers (after you’ve trained them to trust others), or to the desert (after you domesticated them so they will serve only as a meal for a better trained carnivore), or you abandon them to the street (where they will most certainly be injured and left to suffer unimaginable pain until a good Samaritan picks them up – if they do).

“I would never do that,” you exclaim. “I wouldn’t just abandon my pets.”

Maybe not… Maybe instead you call or email me and whine about “how much you love them” and “how you only want what is best for them.”

Then you essentially threaten me with their “death” if I don’t take them into my own home.

Wow. If that’s love, keep it to yourself.

Before you give your pets up, just do a couple of things first: Go down to animal control. Walk the halls and listen to the throngs of barking dogs. Watch cats who were once outgoing and playful cringe in the back corner of their metal prison.

See, really see, how much of a throwaway society we have become. If you still feel the same way, then by all means – go to the lobby, do the paperwork and turn over the animal.Leave your pet, the one that YOU promised to care for throughout its already short life, and walk away.

But you should ask to be a part of the e-list mailing, just to watch your best friend’s description (because that’s all they get in the shelter) show up on the “Pre-E-list”. That evening, check the list again. If your friend is back on it, he got a 24-hour reprieve. If it didn’t, well then – I guess you get the drift.

And I hope karma bites you in the ass.

Sure – I know that there are extenuating circumstances, that there are “exceptions to the rule.” I know that you have your reasons. The thing is – I DON’T CARE what those “reasons” are. I’ve already heard all of them. They range from, “we’re in an apartment that doesn’t accept pets” to “he is the wrong color.” (And yeah – I’ve heard that.)

I can’t take your abandoned animal. I have no more room in my house and I can’t take your pet. It doesn’t matter how many lives I want to save. It would be a physical hazard to bring in more animals. And I know a lot of rescues in the same boat. There’s simply no place to put all the “unwanted, discarded animals that our nation throws away each day.

Here’s the thing – if you decide you absolutely cannot live with your pet, that you are completely incapable of providing even the simplest of things (an occasional meal, water, a safe place to sleep, a pat on the head), then you’ve got problems I can’t fix. Maybe you should be exploring other options because right now – you’re just wasting space on this earth.

Wallow in that statement. Choke on it for all I care. Because if you can’t feel every emotion, every hurt, every pain that your best friend feels as he watches you walk away, you don’t deserve – well, anything. So – if you’re one of those people who “can’t keep their pet,” fine. Just don’t call or email or talk to me about it.

Seriously – I’m done with people who abandon their pets for stupid reasons.

And yes, I know this is an unpopular stance. I understand that you if you are one of these people who have or will abandon your pet, you will be pissed when you read this. And again – I don’t care.

If you’re one of those millions of people who have tossed an animal aside because it was “difficult” or “inconvenient” or it “sprayed”. If you feel that you “are not home enough and can’t give the animal the life it deserves” – fine. Suck it up, deal with it. I don’t care. I’ve had it. I have officially reached my limit…

Yeah – times are tough and no one knows that better than me. We’re all broke. We all have long days and complex schedules and sure – occasionally, our pets suffer for it. Life’s hard. But you took on a commitment, a responsibility for another life.

If you can’t deal with that, you’re the one who has to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror every day… As long as you understand that I’m not taking on your guilt anymore. I refuse.

 

[lilangel]

wow that is so touching.

Also this one replied in that blog:
[center:h98w0k79]
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.

Jim Willis, 2001[/center:h98w0k79]

 

[AmyMeowCat]

:sad3: :cry3: I am seriously crying! How could someone do that to a baby! OMG that that post with the dog is horrible, and you know people really do that. Beautifully written but so sad. *grabs Appa and loves her as she is the closest animal*

 

[Ichigo]

:'( If you can't care for the dog or cat or parrot or chinchilla the next 20+ years they might live then DO NOT BRING IT HOME!!!!!!!!!! For gods sake is it that hard??!!?!