Rescue Stories
Some of these are originals, others are reprinted with permission.
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 required 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 by way through some unfamiliar
subject, I couldn't get out of the requirement.
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 matter 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. The purpose of our first speech
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 speech to inform, I talked about the equestrian art of dressage. For
my speech to demonstrate, I brought my German Shepherd "Bodger"
to class. I demonstrated obedience commands. Finally, the semester was ending
and I had one more speech to give. This speech was to take the place of the
final exam, and was to count for fifty percent of our grade. The motivation
of the speech was to persuade.
After agonizing over a subject matter, keeping with the animal theme, I decided
upon the topic of spaying/neutering pets. My goal was to try to persuade my
classmate to "fix" their pets. I began researching the topic. There
was plenty of material, articles that told of the millions of dogs and cats
that were euthanized every year, supposedly beloved pets that were turned
in to various animal control facilities for the lamest of reasons, or even
dropped off far from home bewildered and scared. DEATH WAS USUALLY A BLESSING.
As the final speech loomed closer, 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 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 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 man 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 agreed enthusiastically. We started
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 about
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 the Humane Society's volunteers
explain to the lady with the litter of puppies that the Society was filled
with puppies and that these puppies would immediately be put to sleep. The
woman who brought the puppies in just shrugged, "I can't help it,"
she whined, "they are getting to big and I don't have room for them."
We left the reception area and Ron led me into the staging area where 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 ethanized 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.
A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat opend it immediately. "Here is
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
asd sparten. 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 dors other than the one I had entered.
Both were closed, one said to incinerator and the other had no sign, but I
could hear various animal noises coming from behind the closed door. In the
back of the room near the incinerator door, were the objects that caused by
distress. Two wheel barrows filed 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 breahing 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 wheel barrows and those dozens of pahtetic little bodies.
Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was not paying attention to her. "Are
you listening?" She asked irritabley. "'I'm only going to go through
this once. I tore my gaze from the back of the room and looked at her. I opend
my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. 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 lookedd 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 I 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 sse, it
looked like a medium size 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 Greman 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, sniffing 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 153 was
a mixed Shepherd, 6-months old, 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 a lot of practice I guessed.
She laid 153 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
153 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 emparrass 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 fefteen minutes had passed
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 already 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 palying
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 trun came to give my
speech, I walked to the front of 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 appologized to the
class and took my seat. After class, the teacher handed out a critique with
our grades. I had received an "A". His comment said, "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 classroom. "I want you
to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class." She said, "His
name is Sam."