Puppy
trust
On my way home one day, I saw an adorable Labrador puppy sitting alone in an abandoned lot. He “waved” his tail and smiled. I walked over and caressed him. We played around for a while. I gave him the last bite of my snack, and when I got up to leave, he ran after me. I didn’t encourage him, but he followed me for over a mile to the bus stop.
I was sure that this was where our paths would part, but when the bus came, and I boarded, the few-month-old pup gathered courage and leaped onto the bus stoop, clinging onto it with his front paws and pulling himself up.
A LEAP
The leap played out like a slo-mo scene from a 90’s family flick, and the entire bus erupted in applause when the adorable puppy made the jump.
I picked the hero up, gave him a hug, and decided to return his dedication by taking him home for dinner.
My mom was happy to see a cute little thing hesitantly following me through the door, sniffing his way through every nook and cranny. I warmed up some of my mom’s hot cakes for us to share, but he took a nibble and started barking at the cake, probably confusing the emanating heat for the cake’s self-defense mechanism.
Dinner fights dog
When I asked my mom if we could keep him, she replied that we couldn’t and that I better return him to his rightful owners. I begged her to reconsider, but she wouldn’t budge, telling me to take him back the next morning and, if I failed to find his owners, bring him to a shelter.
MUST LET
YOU GO
Only one of us had trouble sleeping that night, and it wasn’t the furry fella nestled at the foot of my bed. The next morning, I reluctantly walked back to the bus station with the puppy in tow. This time, I carried him over the bus stoop and cradled him all the way to the lot where we met.
After three hours of knocking on doors, neither the pup nor the few people I found showed any signs of recognizing each other. It’s as if someone brought him to this open field to get rid of him. Who would do such a thing?
But the worst part was that I was instructed to do the same thing, and even though I was on a mission to get rid of him, the pup stayed by my side wherever I went.
The rude front desk woman at the town shelter asked me why I was there. She didn’t seem very happy that I brought an animal, but she didn’t say anything about it. I told her that I came to drop off a puppy that my mom said I couldn’t have. Unfazed by the sight of a teary child holding a Labrador puppy, she handed me a form to fill out.
Rude Nurse Ratchet
With tears in my eyes and regret in my heart, I filled out the form and handed my pup to Nurse Ratchet. She was saying something about neglect and adoption rates, but all I could think was that she didn’t seem to care that I was handing her my puppy!
Only when I came back home did I realize that I hadn’t even asked her what would happen if he wasn’t adopted. I called the shelter first thing in the morning and asked if my pup had been adopted yet. The secretary said she didn’t know. So I asked her what happens if a dog isn’t adopted. She said that the policy was to euthanize it if it’s not “rescued” within a few months.
I was horrified at the thought of a puppy being killed because no one wanted him, and pleaded with my mom to reconsider. Seeing how distraught I was, she finally caved and said she would agree to having a dog only if I could guarantee being its prime caregiver. She explained the difficulties and challenges that came with the job. I obviously accepted the responsibility, but she insisted I “sleep on it”.
RESPON
SIBILITY
The next morning, still confident in my conviction, I told my mom I stood by my decision. I would ensure that the pup was fed and all excrement was kept off her clean floors. She gave me the green light, and I rushed out to the shelter. I was “greeted” by the same disgruntled front-desk employee. I’m not even sure she remembered who I was or which puppy I was asking about. When I explained that I gave away a puppy that I wanted to take back, she scoffed and said she would go look. Twenty excruciating minutes later, she returned and, in the same indifferent tone as before, said I was too late. A “batch” of “un-adopted” dogs were put down last night, and my dog was among them.
I told her that it didn’t make sense since I just gave it away and pleaded with her to check again. Nurse Ratchet mumbled that she was sure, and that the dog was probably put down because it was aggressive.
How aggressive can a few-month-old lab get?
I demanded to see him and said I wouldn’t leave until I did. “You want to see him? No problem,” she said. “Take a look in one of those black bags at the back.” The thought of murdered dogs stuffed in a bag assaulted my being down to the core, and my core revolted. I threw up right on the counter, splashing what was left of my mom’s hot cakes on Ratchet’s shirt.
Behind the barn
Walking away sobbing, I felt like a failure for not keeping my own commitment and betraying a puppy’s blind trust. My companion was gone, and I was the reason. He chose me as a friend and caregiver, but I let him down and caused his early demise. Consumed with guilt, I couldn’t escape the thought that, if it weren’t for me, the puppy could still be alive.
LIFE
LESSON
We’re defined by how we treat those who trust and depend on us. It’s been thirty years since, but the guilt didn’t subside. Betrayal scars the soul with shame.
In a cruel twist of fate, I developed an allergy to dog fur over the years and wasn’t able to adopt one. Since I don’t remember having allergies before the incident, I like to believe that this is a form of punishment. Perhaps my own subconscious is teaching me a lesson in responsibility, courage, and trust.
Dedicated to the puppy I didn’t get to name and the countless other pups we put to death each year.
I’m sorry.
Images were recreated with the help of StarryAI.
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