I Can't Remember His Name

I remember the lady that was with him that day. She was well dressed, and appeared to be a reasonably educated person. I remember him sitting next to her. He was a Shetland Sheepdog, sable and white with a touch of distinguishing gray on his muzzle. The master of maturity had laid it's hand upon him, hazing the brown eyes slightly. He sat with dignity at his assigned post. I wondered how he would react when the leash was given to me and his tailored owner walked out the door without him. "Reason for Surrender, Ma'am?" I asked. "We just don't have time for him anymore", came the flat, emotionless answer. Our front door moved slightly. I thought it must be the wind. I asked the lady if she was aware that a 12 year old dog did not stand a very good chance of finding another home. Yes, she understood. The front door moved again, a little further this time.

I questioned her as to the dog's veterinarian, and after getting the phone number, I called the vet. Generally on a dog this age, the vet may be able to enlighten us in regards to a medical problem that the owners may not be willing to deal with. Once again, the front door moved and caught my eye. The medical history of the dog was clean, no medical problems were noted. I walked over to the front door to pull it closed, when I noticed a small pair of blue eyes peering through the crack. I opened the door to find a little blond girl, maybe 4 years old. The teary-eyed child had been trying to open the door all this time. As I opened the door to let her in, a look of disgust came across the face of the lady owner.

The child rushed in and embraced the elegant Sheltie. The owner glared at me and curtly asked if we were finished. I replied yes in a very confused voice. The owner, now also apparently the mother of this child proceeded to pry the crying girl away from the dog. I stood there like a dimwit, not quite sure what was going on. "Let GO of him!" she yelled, "we have to go NOW!". The child sobbed and buried her face in the dog's ruff. Through her sniffling I could make out the words "I'll be good, please mommy, nooo". As the mother literally drug her daughter out of the office, the last words I heard the mom say as the door slowly closed were "I told you if you didn't clean your room, I would….".

I have known for a long time how callous people can be with their pets. This day made me wonder if compassion was a thing of the past. To sacrifice the life of an animal to "teach a lesson" was by far the shallowest, most heartless reason I have ever come across in all my years at the humane society. I wish I could console that child. And I wish I could remember that dog's name.