How Could You? by An Animal Lover

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 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, 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