My Last Night

I am spending the last day of my life in a cage, witha needle in my forepaw. The hope is that the fluidswill help to bring down the elevated numbers in mykidneys, or some such thing. That's what I heard, at least.The veterinarian's recommendation did offer some hopeto my two best friends, given the fact that I am below thelife expectancy for my breed. I am only ten years old. Iguess that's considered young. But like humans, we allage differently and die when we are supposed to.

This is not quite where or how I had imagined Iwould spend my last night of breathing. But, oh well,what are you going to do? Naturally, I would muchrather be at home, spending my last hours surroundedby my stuffed toys and the people I love.

What dog wouldn't? Despite what my desires mightbe, however, in the long run it's better this way. I cannotbear the thought of my friends finding me dead underthe desk, in the closet, or in some corner of the house.I know that would be too much for them, especially formy Alicia.

As I became increasingly aware that the end of mylife grew imminent, instinct and love had me isolatingmyself a little more each day. Distancing myself fromtheir everyday life was my way of easing those I heldmost dear to accept the inevitability that soon I wouldno longer be with them. But sadly, in the end, it will notmatter. They are still going to hurt. And that is too bad.

The poor golden retriever across from me hadsurgery today. He woke up a little while ago and iswhimpering in pain. Not too long ago, I would havestood up and wagged my tail in acknowledgment. Showhim a little support, you know? But I no longer have itin me. He will be fine, though. He is young and will bechasing after tennis balls in no time.

As for me, I could not chase my own tail even if Iwanted to. Despite my cute, little puppy face (well, that'swhat everyone says), I am old. My joints ache. My nosecan no longer distinguish between the scent of baconand a clump of dirt. My eyes see only shadows. And theworst indignity of all? Loss of control over bowel andbladder.

Am I afraid to die? No. Not at all. Unlike our humancounterparts, animals are not conditioned to fear death.We are born to serve a purpose and then leave. And mypurpose has been to be a faithful and loyal companion.I have to say, I have had a good life. The love my twofriends feel for me is very much reciprocated. In fact,I might have been a little spoiled, if truth be told. Butnot to the point where I was a ball buster and madetheir lives miserable. I may have been a bit finicky whenit came to my food, and I might have refused to eatuntil a bribe in the form of table scraps was tossed intomy bowl. Oh, and then there was my tendency to takewhoever was walking me hither and yon in my questto find the perfect place to do my business. Other thanthat, I have been a peach.

We were close, the three of us. So close, in fact, thatI can feel their anguish over my failing health. Not tomention their conflicting emotions over whether or notto put me down if they get a bad report—which theywill. I will not die during the night. That would be toodevastating for them. I will give them the opportunityto say good-bye. But when they come to see me in themorning, I will definitely make it easier for them to letme go.

In the meantime, I am going to share what life waslike for me and all that I have learned and observed.

Hello!

Dog owners, more often than not, like toattribute human emotions and characteristicsto their pets. While we are by no means just a dumbdog, we are not human either. For example, people willoften mistake a dog's territorial behavior for jealousy.There was a little dog named Sombrero I once knewwho would always growl whenever anyone came tooclose to his master. The woman, who lived alone, wouldoften say to people who commented on it, "Oh, don'tpay attention to Sombrero. He doesn't mean anythingby it." Turning to Sombrero, she would say, "You'rejust jealous, aren't you, sweetie? You want Mummy allto yourself, don't you?" Well, no, not really. The poorwoman was lonely and projected her need for loveonto her dog. Since boundaries were never set withSombrero, he saw his owner as belonging to him, likea toy or a bone.

But are we intelligent? Most definitely. Naturally, ourthought process is limited. We do not possess the kindof intelligence where we can interpret the meaning of anabstract painting by staring at it. Nor can we verbalizethat we are tired of being fed the same kibble day in andday out. I learned to get around that little impedimentby turning away from the food that was placed beforeme. Inevitably, some tasty tidbit would always be added.

We are not driven by ego, so we do not know howto be, say, self-serving or disingenuous. We are steadfastin our loyalty, love unconditionally, do not judge or holdgrudges, and can always be counted on to be there foryou. And our intuition allows us to read humans betterthan you can read each other. No offense intended.According to my Alicia, dogs possess the right qualitiesthat more people should try to emulate.

As for social grace, we have not perfected the fineart of etiquette and decorum while in the presenceof polite society. We will hump a leg or lick ourselveswhen the urge hits. We live in the moment, so life forus is carefree. There are no regrets over what happenedyesterday or anxiety about tomorrow to bog us down.

But enough of that. With time being limited, I needto get on with my story. I am sure that by now you mustbe a bit curious as to what breed I am. I am shih tzu.For a male, I am smaller in stature and have a petiteface. I was often mistaken for female. My hair was keptshort because Alicia did not want a dog that looked likea walking mop.

I was born in what you refer to as a puppy mill. Asnewborns, my siblings and I never had the opportunityto blindly jockey for position at the trough of myexhausted mother's teats. Unfortunately, my motherdied shortly after giving birth to us. The poor thing hadbeen subjected to repeated breeding that resulted inher giving birth to litter after litter in rapid succession.After we were born, her body had given out on her.Lucky for us, there were plenty of lactating females forus to nurse from.

While my time there was short, relatively speaking,the one distinct memory I have is of the incessantbarking, crying, whimpering, and howling. There were nocomforting murmurs or affectionate pats on the head tosoothe us. As I am relating this to you, I am suddenly struckby the irony. We are bred for the purpose of becomingvalued members of a loving human family, but while weare there, we are shown no tenderness whatsoever.

We are simply chattel and a means to an end. WhenI was finally taken from my siblings and transportedto an unknown destination, I found the silence andsolitude unsettling. As a result, I gnawed at the littleholes of my crate for comfort.

* * *

I am sure you already know where I ended up. Yes, ina mall pet shop with the high-priced, fancy accessoriesthat we really do not understand or care about. BeforeI continue, I want to express how grateful I am thatAlicia never got into the trend of wanting to dress mein gold lamé tuxedos or a bathrobe and slippers. Couldyou imagine?

There was a Maltese, named Freddie, who livedup the street from us a few years ago. What did thatpoor slob not have to put up with? One Halloween, hisowner decided to dress him up as an Elvis. I am notsure what that is, but did he look ridiculous—not tomention, miserable. The little black thing on his headkept falling over his eyes. Fortunately for me, the extentof my wardrobe consisted of warm winter sweaters anda little hat with flaps that covered my ears.

Anyway, when I first arrived at the shop, I wasscared and confused. I was poked here and proddedthere before being placed in a large sink and dousedwith water to clean me up. The whining and yippingI heard coming from the other puppies offered littleconsolation. It only reminded me of where I had justcome from.

I was not used to the bright lights, unfamiliar sounds,and the numerous hands that handled me. It was toomuch for me to take in. I wanted nothing more thanto hide and to be left alone. All this changed, however,when I received my first genuine cuddle. On the day Iwas to be put in the display pen, a young woman whoworked at the store took me out of my cage and held meup in the air.

"Look at you," she cooed. "You are so cute." She thenbrought me down to her face until our noses touched."If I could afford you, I would buy you myself." Well, itwas at that moment that the intuition inherent to dogssparked to life. Her sweetness enveloped me like mymother's womb, and for the first time, I felt safe andsecure. When she opened the door to put me in my nexttemporary home, she gave me one last squeeze and thensaid, "Knock 'em dead." Knock 'em dead? I had no ideawhat she meant by that.

I found myself walking gingerly in a nest of shreddedpaper. What is this? I wondered as I sniffed at it. Whateverit was tickled my nose. I did not like it at all. All thiswas forgotten when I found myself looking through theglass at a strange, new world. There were a lot of peoplemilling about, looking at this and that. They seemedto congregate the most at the glass-covered rooms likethe one I was in. They were pointing and smiling atwhatever was behind the glass. So that is what I hadbecome: a furry, little display.

For the days that I was there, I had to contend withstrange people peering at me and making funny faces,not to mention being taken in and out for potentialowners to see if they wanted to take me home withthem.

While I was being checked out, it did not take longfor me to figure out that I needed to be doing the samething myself. I did not do well with having my earsand tail pulled by rambunctious youngsters. One ofthem poked me in the eye and giggled. When I let outa yelp, the little one burst into tears. I think he mistookme for a stuffed toy. No harm done. He was wailing soloudly that I actually felt worse for him than I did formy stinging eye.

There was one couple that I spent some time with.The female was more enthusiastic about me than themale she was with. "What are we going to do with anugly, little rat dog like him?" he asked, eyeing me withdistaste.

"Oh, come on," she said as she picked me up. "I don'tthink he's ugly at all. He reminds me of one of those cutegremlins from that movie." She began to rock me like ababy. "Just give him a chance. You'll grow to love him.Why do you always have to be so negative?"

The male abruptly stood up from the little benchwhere they both had been sitting and began to pacethe small area. "Listen, I don't like him," he repliedimpatiently. "And I'm certainly not going to pay throughthe nose for him. If he's ugly now, he'll only get uglierwhen he's older. Look at his face. It looks like he ran intoa truck." When the female began to protest, he made asharp gesture with his hand and said, "Give him back,and let's go."

She began to plead. He began to get angry. I began tosquirm. All I knew was that I did not want to go homewith these people. The negativity between them wouldeventually spill over onto me. But most importantly, atthat moment, a certainty that I was not meant for themcame over me.

I knew I had to get away. So I ended up doing theonly thing I knew would get me out of that situation:I urinated on the woman who was holding me. I waspromptly handed over to one of the minders who hadbeen standing close by. I had never been so happy to beback in my pen. That was a close call. After that, I beganto pay attention to everyone who approached the glass.If I did not see or feel the one I was intended for, I wouldcurl up into a ball and turn my back to the audience. Ilearned to be very patient.

Now, you might be asking yourself, How could hehave known who his owner was going to be? The only wayI can express it is that knowing and certainty give off avibration in the pit of the belly. It is what you refer to asa gut feeling. Since my role was to serve as a companionrather than a working dog who herds sheep, therewas already a soul connection in place. People can belooking at a litter of identical-looking puppies but findthemselves drawn to a particular one that stands out inthe bunch. Why? Because that is the one that is meantfor them. Then there are the instances when it seems tohappen by accident, as was the case with Alicia.

On the day when she finally came, I sensed herbefore she even walked through the door. I sat up alertand waited.

There she was. Alicia was a slender woman. Not tootall. Not too short. She had light brown hair that reacheddown to the top of her shoulders. The smile she gave thestore worker who greeted her was warm and friendly. Inoticed that she was browsing at nothing in particular.I got the impression that she was simply whittling awaythe time. Yes, she was definitely the one. In a moment ofprecognition, I knew that my presence would help herget through a very difficult time in her life.

When she finally began to stroll in my direction, Iknew I had to get her attention quickly. But how? Whatcould I do besides scratch at the window? I saw myempty food bowl sitting in the corner and picked it upwith my teeth. I pranced back and forth until I got thedesired result. When she was standing before me, I keptthe bowl in my mouth and stared at her. My tail beganto wag of its own volition. That was the first time thathappened.

She stared back at me and then gave me a smile thatlit up her face. I felt my heart light up in return. Sheplaced her finger on the window. I saw her mouth move,but I could not hear what she was saying.

I watched intently as she approached the young malewho had greeted her when she first walked in. She saidsomething to him and pointed to me. A little while later,the door to my pen opened, and I was taken out.

Gratefully, it was for the last time.

My New Family

Fortunately for me, my new family loved me atfirst sight.

When Alicia pulled up to the house, her twochildren were in the driveway washing their father'svehicle. After getting out of the car, Alicia waved hertwo kids over. "Melissa! Bryan! I need your help carryinga few things into the house."

She opened the door to the backseat and took meout of the carrier she bought for me. "I can't wait for thekids to see you. They're going to love you." Her energylevel was high and excited.

"Hey, Mom," Bryan called out as he walked towardthe car. "Dad's letting Mel and I use his car tonight.Johnny Ellis called earlier and invited us over to checkout the new flat-screen television they just—what'sthat?" Coming closer, he asked, "You got a puppy?"

"Puppy? What puppy?" Melissa asked as she cameup behind her brother.

"Meet the newest member of the family," Aliciasaid before handing me to her offspring. Melissalet out a squeal of delight and surprise while Bryansimply grinned in pleasure. I was passed between thetwo like a little football. I was so relieved to see thather children were older and way beyond the age ofeye poking and tail pulling. At that time, they wereboth seventeen years of age, with only five minutesseparating them.

Well, my tail was whirling like a propeller. If itwere possible, I would have taken off into the air like aballoon. I liked Melissa and Bryan instantly.

"What made you get him?" Bryan asked as hescratched my neck while Melissa held me.

"I don't know," Alicia answered, sounding puzzled,before handing her son a couple of bags. "I wasn't evenaware they'd opened a pet store in the mall. I decidedto go in for the heck of it. Then I saw this little guy." Shebegan to stroke my ear. "It was the way he sat staring atme. It was almost as if he was trying to communicatewith me. I can't explain it. So here he is." Alicia finishedwith a shrug.

"I can see why you couldn't resist him," Melissasaid. "He sure is cute. And he looks like a proud littlewarrior, don't you, buddy?" She placed me against herchest and zipped up her jacket to keep me warm againstthe cool air.

"Let's name him Cherokee then," Bryan suggested."He'll grow up proud and strong."