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 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，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.