After I was discharged from the Navy,
Jim and I
moved back to Detroit
to use our GI bill benefits to
get some schooling. Jim was going for
a degree in
Electronics and I, after
much debating, decided to
get mine in
Computer Science. One of the classes
that was a requirement was Speech.
Like many people, I had no
fondness for getting up
in front of
people for any reason, let alone
to be the
center of attention
as I stuttered my way through some
unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't get
out of the requirement,
and so
I found myself in my last
semester before graduation
with
Speech as one of my classes.
On the first day of class our
professor explained to us that
he was
going to leave the subject manner
of our talks up to us,
but he was going to provide the
motivation of the speech.
We would be
responsible for six speeches, each with
a
different motivation. For instance our
first speech's purpose
was to inform.
He advised us to pick subjects
that we were
interested in and
knowledgeable about. I decided
to center
my six speeches around
animals, especially dogs.
For my first speech to inform,
I talked about the equestrian
art of dressage. For my speech
to demonstrate, I brought my
German Shepherd, Bodger, to class and
demonstrated obedience commands.
Finally the semester
was almost over
and I had but one more
speech to give. This speech
was to take the place of
a written final exam and was
to count for
fifty per cent
of our grade. The speeches
motivation was to persuade.
After agonizing over a subject matter,
and keeping with my animal theme,
I decided on the topic of
spaying and neutering pets.
My goal was to try to
persuade my classmates to neuter
their pets. So I started
researching the topic. There was plenty
of material, articles that told
of the millions of dogs and
cats that were euthanized every year,
of supposedly beloved pets that were
turned in to various animal control
facilities for the lamest of reasons,
or worse, dropped off far from
home, bewildered and scared.
Death was usually a blessing.
The final speech was looming closer,
but I felt well prepared.
My notes were
full of facts
and statistics that I felt sure
would motivate even the most naive
of pet owners to succumb to
my plea. A couple of days
before our speeches
were due, I
had the bright idea of going
to the local branch of the
Humane
Society and borrowing a
puppy to use as a sort of
a visual aid. I called the
Humane Society and explained what
I wanted. They were very
happy to
accommodate me.
I made arrangements to pick up
a puppy the day before my speech.
The day before my speech,
I went to pick up the puppy.
I was feeling very confident.
I could quote all the statistics
and numbers without ever looking at
my notes.
The puppy, I felt,
would add the final emotional touch.
When I arrived at the
Humane Society I was met by
a young guy named Ron. He
explained that he
was the public
relations person for the Humane Society.
He was very excited about my
speech and asked if I would
like a tour
of the facilities
before I picked up the puppy.
I enthusiastically agreed.
We started out in the reception
area, which was the general public's
initial
encounter with the Humane Society.
The lobby was full, mostly with
people
dropping off various animals
that they no longer wanted Ron
explained to me
that this branch
of the Humane Society took in
about fifty animals a day
and adopted out twenty.
As we stood there I heard
snatches of conversation:
"I can't keep him,
he digs
holes in my garden."
"They are such cute puppies,
I know you will
have no
trouble finding homes for them."
"She is wild, I can't control her."
I heard one of Humane Society's
volunteer explain to the lady with
the
litter of puppies that the
Society was filled with puppies
and that these
puppies, being black,
would immediately be put to sleep.
Black puppies,
she explained, had little
chance of being adopted.
The woman who brought
the puppies
in just shrugged,
"I can't help it," she whined.
"They are
getting too big.
I don't have room for them."
We left the reception area.
Ron led me into the staging
area where
all the incoming
animals were evaluated for adoptability.
Over half never
even made it
to the adoption center.
There were just too many.
Not only
were people bringing in
their own animals, but strays were
also dropped off.
By law the
Humane Society had to hold a
stray for three days.
If the
animal was not claimed by then,
it was euthanized, since
there was
no background information on the animal.
There were already too many animals
that had a known history
eagerly
provided by their soon-to-be ex-owners.
As we went through
the different areas,
I felt more and more depressed.
No amount of statistics
could take
the place of seeing the reality
of what this throw-away attitude
did to the living, breathing animal.
It was overwhelming
Finally Ron stopped in front of
a closed door. "That's it," he said,
"except for this."
I read the sign on the door.
"Euthanization Area."
"Do you want to see one?" he asked.
Before I could decline, he interjected,
"You really should.
You can't tell the whole
story
unless you experience the end."
I reluctantly agreed.
"Good." He said "I already cleared it
and Peggy is expecting you."
He knocked firmly on the door.
It was opened immediately by a
middle-aged woman in a
white lab coat. "Here's the girl
I was telling you
about,"
Ron explained. Peggy looked me over.
"Well I'll leave you here with
Peggy
and meet you in the
reception area in about fifteen minutes.
I'll have the puppy ready."
With that Ron departed,
leaving me standing in front of
the stern-looking Peggy.
Peggy motioned me in. As I
walked into the room, I gave
an audible gasp.
The room was
small and spartan. There were a
couple of cages on the wall
and
a cabinet with syringes
and vials of a clear liquid.
In the middle of the room
was an
examining table with a
rubber mat on top. There were
two doors other than the one
I had entered. Both were closed.
One said to the incinerator room,
and the other
had no sign,
but I could hear various animals
noises coming from behind
the closed door.
In the back of the room,
near the door that was marked
incinerator were the objects
that caused
my distress: two wheelbarrows,
filled with the bodies of
dead kittens and
puppies.
I stared in horror.
Nothing had prepared me for this.
I felt my legs grow weak and
my breathing become rapid and shallow.
I wanted to run from that room,
screaming.
Peggy seemed not to notice my
state of shock. She started talking
about the euthanization process,
but I wasn't hearing her.
I could not tear my gaze
away from the wheelbarrows and those
dozens
of pathetic little bodies.
Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that
I was not paying attention to her.
"Are you listening?" she asked irritably.
"I'm only going to go through
this once." I tore my gaze
from the back of the room
and looked at her. I opened
my mouth to say something,
but nothing would come out,
so I nodded.
She told me that behind the
unmarked door were the animals
that were scheduled for
euthanasia
that day. She picked up a
chart that was hanging from the
wall. "One fifty three is next,"
she said as she looked at
the chart. "I'll go get him."
She laid down the chart on
the examining table
and started for
the unmarked door. Before she got
to the door she stopped and
turned around.
"You aren't going to
get hysterical, are you?" she asked,
"Because that will only upset
the animals."
I shook my head.
I had not said a word since
I walked into that room.
I still felt unsure if would be
able to without breaking down into tears.
As Peggy opened the unmarked door
I peered into the room beyond.
It was a small room,
but
the walls were lined and stacked
with cages. It looked like they
were all occupied.
Peggy opened the
door of one of the lower
cages and removed the occupant.
From what
I could see it
looked like a medium-sized dog.
She attached a leash and ushered
the dog
into the room
in which I stood.
As Peggy brought the dog into
the room I could see that the
dog was no more than a puppy,
maybe five or six months old.
The pup looked to be a cross
between a Lab and a German shepherd.
He was mostly black, with a
small amount of tan above his
eyes and on his feet.
He was very excited
and bouncing
up and down, trying to sniff
everything in this new environment.
Peggy lifted the pup onto the table.
She had a card in her
hand, which she laid on the
table next to me.
I read the card.
It said that number one fifty
three was a mixed Shepherd,
six months old.
He was surrendered
two days ago by a family.
Reason of surrender was given as
"jumps on children."
At the bottom was a note
that said "Name: Sam."
Peggy was quick and efficient,
from lots of practice, I guessed.
She laid one fifty three down
on his side and tied a rubber
tourniquet around his front leg.
She turned to fill the syringe
from
the vial of clear liquid.
All this time I was standing
at the head of the table.
I could see the moment
that one
fifty three went from a curious
puppy to a terrified puppy.
He did not like being held
down
and he started to struggle.
It was then that I finally
found my voice. I bent over
the struggling puppy and
whispered
"Sam. Your name is Sam."
At the sound of his name
Sam quit struggling.
He wagged his
tail tentatively and his soft pink
tongue darted out and licked my hand.
And that is how he spent
his last moment. I watched his
eyes fade from hopefulness
to nothingness.
It was over very quickly.
I had never even seen Peggy
give the lethal shot. The tears
could not be
contained any longer.
I kept my head down so
as not to embarrass myself in
front of the stoic Peggy.
My tears fell onto the
still body on the table.
"Now you know," Peggy said softly.
Then she turned away.
"Ron will be waiting for you."
I left the room. Although it
seemed like it had been hours,
only fifteen minutes had gone
by
since Ron had left me at the door.
I made my way back to the
reception area. True to his word,
Ron had the puppy all ready to go.
After giving me some instructions
about what to feed the puppy,
he handed the carrying cage
over
to me and wished me
good luck on my speech.
That night I went home and
spent many hours playing with the
orphan puppy. I went to bed that
night but I could not sleep.
After a while I got up
and looked at my speech notes
with their numbers
and statistics.
Without a second thought,
I tore them up and threw
them away. I went back to bed.
Sometime during the night I finally
fell asleep. The next morning I
arrived at my Speech class with
Puppy Doe. When my turn came
to give my speech. I walked
up to the front the class
with the
puppy in my arms.
I took a deep breath, and
I told the class about
the life and death of Sam.
When I finished my speech I
became aware that I was crying.
I apologized to the class and
took my seat. After class the
teacher handed out a critique with
our grades. I got an "A."
His comments said
"Very moving and persuasive."
Two days later, on the last
day of class, one of my
classmates came up to me.
She was an older lady that
I had never spoken to in
class. She stopped me on
our way
out of the class room.
"I want you to know that
I adopted the puppy you brought
to class," she said.
"His name is Sam."
Author: Chris Benton
(cbenton@cland-mt.com)
I hope after reading this
story you have come to
realize the importance of
neutering all pets to reduce the
population of unwanted animals.
I hope you have also
come to realize the commitment
a person and family needs
to have an animal and
what the consequences are
when the animal is no longer
wanted because it got too
big, or was the wrong
color for the new couch. Animals DO DIE because
of us - millions each year.
Please be a
responsible pet owner.
Signed: Sue
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