Hi. My name is Dandy. I am a brown, long-haired mutt. I know whoever reads this is going to be shocked that this story is being told by a dog. I need to tell this story though because it is a serious topic and I am very sad. See, I had a human. A human that I loved more than life. And she loved me, even though I’m not the kind of dog you would expect a girl like my Angie to have. She was a beautiful girl. She was tall, blonde and had big, beautiful blue eyes. Men just adored her. She would lower her head and glance up at them with those eyes and they would become putty in her hand. This was her talent, and her torture.
She was street smart and a graduate from the school of hard knocks. Academics really weren’t her thing. But she had so much life and she knew how to live it, that is for sure.
Humans think it’s easy for pets to just go on with things when a human leaves us. As if we have no importance and no feelings. I’m here to tell you that our feelings are real. And we have hearts too. And mine is broken.
Angie was my human. She was always smiling on the outside, but she was crying on the inside. She wanted a love that only two people could give her. Those two failed miserably. One re-married and started a new life where the priority was other children. And her father left the country where his life was his job. Sadly, no one can replace a mother or a father. I tried to be the perfect pet for her, though. I knew she was getting herself into a bit of trouble. But, who’s going to listen to a pet? Who could I have told?
She’s been taken away now. The men that came in the room, they took her and she’s gone. It wasn’t her choice. I was there. I was sleeping in the bed when my
Angie…and Rachel and Bob came home. Well, it was Bob’s home, but it was where we all were staying.
My Angie came to greet me as she always did. She always missed me as much as I missed her. They went into the other room. I was in the bedroom, but I could see out into the living room. Bob got out the white, powdered stuff they all sniffed. I sniffed it once and my nose got numb and I felt sneezy. I ran around chasing my tail for the next two hours. It was not fun. I honestly don’t know why they do it. They seem to like it. Humans. Such a strange species. The only mammal that will do things they know will kill them and yet, they won’t stop. It’s as if they have no self-preservation instinct.
Anyway, I assumed my position back in the bed. I guess I dosed off again. I think quite a few hours passed. I do tend to sleep quite a bit, especially when I am curled up in a big, white down blanket. This place we were staying had the best of everything. I even got to eat my breakfast off a silver tray that morning. And I think it was REAL silver.
When I woke up, my Angie was laying in bed next to me. I could here Bob and Rachel talking in the other room. I felt that something was wrong. Something didn’t feel right. I got closer to see what the matter was. I licked her hand. Nothing. I licked her right on the nose. This ALWAYS resulted in her brushing me away with her hand. And she would usually mumble something in her sleep. But, it didn’t seem like she was sleeping. Something was terribly wrong. I knew it. I yelped and cried. Still. Nothing.
Bob yelled, “Shut that damned thing up.”
Rachel rushed in and picked me up. She was shaking and she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
Bob told Rachel, “I’ll take care of this. We need to get you on a plane and back home tonight. I’ll make some phone calls. We’ll get somebody over here tomorrow. You just get dressed, go home and don’t talk to anyone. It will be considered an overdose.”
Rachel nodded. She began to cry while she held me. Her tears were falling in my hair. I’d seen my Angie sniff that powdered stuff and then cry later when she was alone. Rachel’s tears were a different kind though.
“Call me when you get home and we’ll decide when to start making more phone calls. Go it?”
She nodded again.
If only I had been awake. Why didn’t I hear anything? I could have barked and maybe gotten someone’s attention and…and…and Bob probably would have just told me to shut up…and…nothing would be different right now. My heart wouldn’t hurt right now.
Bob put on a shirt and he and Rachel left the room. I was alone with my Angie. I lay down beside her and decided to just wait with her. I nudged her with my nose every so often and cried to her. She felt cool. Her skin felt different when I licked her nose. I scooted closer and closer to her to try to keep her warm. I kept licking her face…even her lips. She hated to be licked on the mouth. And still, she just lay still. No response. I knew at that moment that my human would never pet me again, never talk to me again, never scoop me up and kiss me again. Her body was here but my Angie was gone. How had this happened?
It felt like days had gone by and then finally, Bob returned. Rachel was not with him. He poured himself a Scotch, downed the whole thing, and then made a phone call. His voice sounded strange. Not his usual tone or demeanor. Something was just not right here. I was scared. I needed help. And Bob certainly was not going to help me.
Bob took the bag of white powder and put it and some green papers in my Angie’s purse. I had seen him hand my Angie those green papers before and she would sometimes hand them to someone else who gave us cookies or something shiny and sparkly to wear.
Why had he done that? That powder is not hers. He put something else in there too. It looked like a medicine bottle, like one I had when I had a terribly achy stomach one time. Why was he giving here these things now?
A few minutes later, there was someone at the door. Bob talked to the man and handed him more of the green papers. The man came over and started looking at my Angie. He was sort of inspecting her. Moving her arms and looking closely at her head and her face. What was he doing? He was writing some things down on a paper.
A few minutes later a couple more men came. Bob, again, greeted them and handed each of them more of the green papers. They all just nonchalantly slid it into their pockets without even looking at it.
Two of the men put my Angie on a white bed on wheels. They put a white sheet over her whole body and wheeled her out the door. I barked and hopped around, barking as loud as I could. I wanted to go with her. “Wait, I’m coming too,” I shrieked. Bob picked me up and held me until they were gone. Then, he put me down and poured himself four or five more drinks. I lost count really. Besides, I wasn’t overly interested in what he was doing. I was more interested in where my Angie went.
A few minutes later someone else arrived. This time Bob greeted the man at the door but did not hand him any green papers. Instead, he scooped me up and handed me to the man. His tone was different again. This time softer and almost sweet sounding. Definitely NOT his normal tone.
After a long car ride, I arrived at a cold and noisy place. There were shrieking barks that echoed throughout the building. It sounded like there were a million barking dogs inside. The man took me into a smaller room and put me into a square sort of hole in the wall and then closed a metal gate behind me. I jumped on the gate, but it was latched closed. I thought this must be where I was going to die too. There was just a newspaper and a water bowl in my dark hole. I curled up in the far corner and tried to go to sleep. I could not. I just shivered all night and cried.
Finally, someone came to save me from my demise. The man retrieved me from my hole and handed me to a woman. This woman took me to her car and held me and cried. She cried so hard. Her touch felt familiar and she seemed as sad as me. I licked her salty tears as they rolled down her face. Oh how I wanted to tell her what I had seen and what I had heard. I listened intently to her as she spoke, hoping that she might tell me where my Angie was. Her words made no sense to me.
It’s been weeks now since the woman rescued me. I am sleeping better as the days go on. I suppose I will one day love my new owner. But, I will always miss my Angie. There is a picture of my Angie on the wall in my new home. She’s smiling just the way I like to remember her in that picture. It makes me happy when I look at it.
It doesn’t really matter HOW she was taken anymore. She’s gone. I can’t change it. I just have to live with it. As do Bob and Rachel. I wonder how they are sleeping these days.