Feel Sorry for Henry
I can’t breathe…Can you please put me down? I struggle. I twist. I am standing on my back legs, choking, fighting to get some air. She is holding me up by my neck, not letting go. Why?
A few minutes ago, I was running around leash-free, on my usual walk with my human. The bushes smelled of summer — fresh, flowers, green leaves. The chittering and squawks of hundreds of birds filled the air. I love summer. It is the season for a dog. Humans are more relaxed and have lots of fun. I meet lots of my buddies and can play longer. Over the past few weeks, Lisa had been spending more time at home. I was a happy puppy. Till now.
Lisa was not relaxed. She seemed tense, angry, upset at someone. She was exchanging angry words with another human a few feet away. He had called me over and I could smell chicken treats in his hand. I leapt towards him in anticipation — the aroma beckoning me. Lisa’s rough grab had stopped me in mid-air.
Now she was talking on the phone — agitated, her voice rising in anger. The collar was tightening around my neck like a noose. I yelped and collapsed. She let me go. AAHHH.. Lying on the ground, I took a deep breath. Air…Sweet sweet air.. Breathing never felt so satisfying. Why was she doing this? She had never hurt me before.
Another exchange of words. Then there was silence. I could hear my panting. Lisa tugged hard on the leash and we headed home. I kept my distance from her. Unhappiness was radiating down the leash and I didn’t want to do anything to add to it. The green canopy and soft earthen tracks gave way to the hard surface of concrete. Then we were home. Lisa was very unhappy the whole day. I could do nothing to comfort her. A dark cloak of sadness slowly enveloped her as she kept looking at her phone through the rest of the day. By evening, she was depressed.
Yay!. We are going on a drive. I love drives. My human allows me to stick my head out of the window. The wind makes my ears flap. The smells of New York assail my senses. It is dark. I have never gone out for a drive in the dark. Why is she so quiet?
Another familiar smell hits me. No! Not again. Amy gathers me in her arms and walks into my home of three years ago. I hear the familiar voice say “Hey Henry. You are back, sweetie.”
She turns to Lisa and says “ We are very sorry to hear what’s happened and that you are bringing Henry back to us. Please sign these papers and then we are good.” Lisa mumbles something in response. I can hear the scratching of the pen. She gives me a cuddle and a pat on the head. Then she is gone.
I am taken into the large room at the back. Rows of cages line the walls. Smells and sounds from the past arise from the depths of my memory. The stench of despair. The cacophony of loud barks. Residents welcoming a stranger. The floor of my cage smells of cleaner and lots of other dogs.
I lie down on the floor thinking, “What have I done? Why am I back here? How my life has changed in a day.”
Lisa added me to her life two years ago when her doggy companion died and left a void behind. She is a dog person. She would make sure that I always got walked when she was out the whole day. Steve was my walking companion on most days. On weekends Lisa and I would go to the park and I was always allowed to run free. A few weeks ago, I tried to gobble a bone lying in the street. Street food is tasty, but it needs to go down very quickly or else the accompanying human can yank open my mouth and remove it. Unfortunately, the bone decided to stop on its way in my throat. I was gagging, choking, thrashing around..couldn’t breathe. Panic set in. I could hear Lisa saying, “It’s okay. I got you.” She put her hand on my stomach and pushed hard. Air rushed out in a big whoosh. She did it again…whoosh and pop. Then she put her hand in my mouth and extracted the offending bone. I could breathe. What a relief. Apparently my tongue had turned blue. A few minutes later, we were in a car headed to one of my not-so-favorite places. The vet examined me and gave me a clean bill of health. I heard him tell Lisa, “It’s good that you know CPR, you saved his life.” I remembered the words “I got you.”
Silence reigned in the room. The welcome was over. I could hear a few whines. I knew what was coming in the next few days. The endless carousel of new faces, some familiar, the others complete strangers. The houses with the myriad smells of the dogs that have passed through and the ones that are still there. The disappointment that results from the low tone of resignation you hear, when the sweet lady in the front puts her phone down and says, “Thank you. I will call someone else.”
Don’t feel sorry for me. I am a survivor.
I had been here before and lucked out with Lisa. She was my savior. Fall into a pond, Lisa to the rescue. Get attacked by a badass pitbull, Lisa throws herself in the middle and gets bitten. I survive. I also had an Instagram account with pictures of the happy times with Lisa. It had lots of followers. She was a very good human companion. Feel sorry for me because I will not be there by her side.
There is another Lisa waiting out there for me. Who knows; this time it may be another Lisa with kids and a huge backyard with lots of fat squirrels to chase. I know humans say that dogs live in the present. However, evolution and thirty thousand years of human companionship also means that there may be a small part of our brain which hopes for a better future.
