| Dogs Don't Have
Souls, Do They?
I remember bringing you home. You were so small and
cuddly with your tiny paws and soft fur.
You bounced around the room with eyes flashing and
ears flopping.
Once in a while, you'd let out a little yelp just to
let me know this was your territory.
Making a mess of the house and chewing on everything
in sight became a passion and when I scolded you, you
just put your head down and looked up at me with those
innocent eyes as if to say: "I'm sorry, but I'll
do it again as soon as you're not watching."
As you got older, you protected me by looking out the
window and barking at everyone who walked by.
When I had a tough day at work, you would be waiting
for me with your tail wagging just to say, "Welcome
home, I missed you."
You never had a bad day and I could always count on
you to be there for me.
When I sat down to read the paper and watch TV, you
would hop on my lap looking for attention.
You never asked for anything more than to have me pat
your head, so you could go to sleep with your head over
my leg.
As you got older, you moved around more slowly. Then
one day, old age finally took its toll, and you couldn't
stand on those wobbly legs anymore. I knelt down and
patted you lying there, trying to make you young again.
You just looked up at me as if to say you were old
and tired and that after all these years of not asking
for anything, you had to ask me to do one last favor.
With tears in my eyes, I drove you one last time to
the vet. One last time you were lying next to me.
For some strange reason you were able to stand up in
the animal hospital - perhaps it was your sense of pride.
As the vet led you away, you stopped for an instant,
turned your head and looked at me as if to say: "Thank
you for taking care of me."
I thought, "No - thank YOU for taking care of
ME!"
-- Charles B. Wells Jr., Palmyra, N.Y.
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