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| 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 you 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 car of me."
I thought, "No - thank YOU for taking care of ME!"
-- Charles B. Wells Jr., Palmyra, N.Y. |
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