Irresponsible Pet Owners

[Boudicca]

The name seems familiar, but probably only because I've read it on rescue forums.

I support, BTW, rescues sterilizing animals (cats, dogs and bunnies) before adoption.
They, like any animal owner, have the legal and moral authority to make that decision regarding their own animals.  Since they remain the legal owners, even after adoption, spay/neuter is the only way they can ensure there are no unwanted litters once the dogs are living in their new home.

I thought you must support the sterilization of rescue animals; alot of them end up in shelters due to being the surplus in an unexpected litter.  Alongside all the dogs with behavioral problems, or who just outgrow their cuteness.

With Easter coming up, the shelters are going to see a seasonal influx of bunnies who were brought home for the holiday and are now no longer wanted.  I adopted my last pair of bunnies for that very reason.  No bunnies nowadays though-they'd make too tasty a chew toy for the dogs and cats.

It chaps my ass no end that people treat animals like disposable tissue, use 'em and throw 'em away. 

[whiffleball]

It chaps my ass no end that people treat animals like disposable tissue, use 'em and throw 'em away. 

Yes and H5 for it.

[MP_Sarge]

Bunnies and chicks, yep.

I have for years sent this article out as an email [mods: the author has granted permission to reproduce in full] and a plea for people to think twice about that cute puppy, every holiday season:

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 bellyrub.

My housetraining 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, 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 I 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. 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 or cat, 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!" And 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 goodbye 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, 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 dogspeak, 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 meant for 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.
~Jim Willis

[Mike220]

I friggin hate that story. I worked in an animal shelter last fall. Unfortunately it wasn't no-kill. I saw that scenario happen many times. That's how I ended up with my cat. At 8 years old, the owners decided not to try and fix his tendency to pee in the house after they had a kid. After two weeks, he went on the euth list and I decided to ask my boss if I could take him home. Now he has a pretty good life, especially since he was 24 hours from getting put to sleep.

That is the one job I have ever been let go from, and I'm glad every day that I was. I don't know how people do it for a living.

[Alpha Mare]

We've adopted 3 shelter dogs.  I figure they're happier being fixed and having a home than being put to death.  I know our life is enriched by having them share our home.

H5!

[MP_Sarge]

I friggin hate that story. I worked in an animal shelter last fall. Unfortunately it wasn't no-kill. I saw that scenario happen many times. That's how I ended up with my cat. At 8 years old, the owners decided not to try and fix his tendency to pee in the house after they had a kid. After two weeks, he went on the euth list and I decided to ask my boss if I could take him home. Now he has a pretty good life, especially since he was 24 hours from getting put to sleep.

That is the one job I have ever been let go from, and I'm glad every day that I was. I don't know how people do it for a living.

I tried alcoholism.

When that failed, I quit.
I only work with dogs in foster homes, now.

[dandi]

I have for years sent this article out as an email

Knew what it was going to say but read it anyway.

Ugh...