Stories
THE STORY OF RIDDICK
by Jan Siener
I met Riddick for the first and last time on Jan 25, 2007. It was a cold 13 degrees, clear, starry night. I looked up at the sky, seeing the all familiar constellation Orion. I was thinking how cold the night air was. I walked down a gently sloping lawn towards a dark and lifeless trailer. There, not ten feet from the front door was a makeshift dog house painted a bright blue. The first thing the beam from my flashlight caught was a huge heavy gauged chain leading into the dog house. The chain was on a stake at one end and the other was wrapped around Riddick's neck. This was my first encounter with this boy. He did not greet me with a wagging tail nor did his soft brown eyes look at me pleadingly for help to escape this man made hell. He had a soft white coat sprinkled with tan. His pads on his feet were pink. He was young, less than a year old. He had committed a crime through no fault of his own, he was born He did not choose his owners, they chose him. Why? Did they fall in love with a cute puppy? Was it their intention to make him a family member?
Riddick's demise came when his owners could no longer commit to each other, much less him, and both left the trailer and him behind. These two people were at the residence sporadically picking up belonging they thought to be important to them. Passing within two feet of a dog wagging his tail, begging for attention and yet unseen. How does this happen? Riddick will never know the warmth of a home on a cold night, nor the love of a family, or what a full tummy feels like after a meal. His lifeless body lay there. Frozen to the ground, inside the small, blue, makeshift dog house. Emaciated to the point you could count every rib and notch on his backbone. How insignificant he had become in the lives of his owners. To walk by a starving dog to pick up personal belongings makes me wonder if these two people even feel remorse. Tears came to my eyes for Riddick. His life should have been so much more than what it was. I thought of my own dogs. How loved they are and how they bring me so much joy. Riddick was never given that chance. As I walked away from the site of his death, I vowed that he would never be forgotten and everyone I know, would know Riddick, He was a victim, his mercy was left in the care of two miserable human feelings who failed him when he needed them. And with the last wag of his tail as he curled himself in that small house and closed his eyes for the last time, his thoughts were on the ones he loved, hoping they would soon return so he could see them one more time and try to make them understand that he needed and loved them, no matter who or what other people thought of them GOODBYE RIDDICK, go now into
the arms of the angels.
HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis 2001
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 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 have 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!"
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 dog speak, 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.
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 you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
The End
I was put to sleep..Notice my red collar?? I too once had an owner THINK..ADOPT DON'T SHOP!
SAVE A LIFE!!!!
