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I remembered Mr Chong was talking about the dog abuse that happened recently. So I decided to dedicated this post to all the dogs that deserve to live in this world as much as us. Below is a story that I liked very much about dogs. It is written in a puppy’s point of view and it is quite a nice story if you asked me.

Taken from http://www.quizilla.com/stories/3035697/this-is-sad-it-will-make-you-crytear.

How could you? When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?”-but then you’d relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a “dog person”, still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. 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’ve 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’tlet 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. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?” They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind-that this was all a bad dream…or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?” Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said “I’m so sorry.” She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself-a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

Well, do you like this. Did you cry? I almost did. It reminded me of my friend’s dog, “Ah Girl”. Ah Girl is a very fierce dog and she is the actual dog that help me to overcome my phobia of dogs. When I was young I used to be afraid of dogs. Whenever a dog came near me, you could see me running away, disappearing in a second. This finally stopped as I started to visit my friend’s house almost everyday. At first, I would always freeze at the door and refusing to move even an inch as the dog barked.  Then I tried to move alittle by a little and found out that the dog’s bites aren’t that pain at all. It’s no wonder they say that a dog’s bark is worse than it’s bite. It’s bark was loud, and could be heard from the first floor. I slowly got use to the barking but now I could hear it no more.  She is gone. You would have thought that she died but she didn’t. I don’t know where she might have gone to. Neither does my friend.  What happened was that her daddy  took the dog somewhere while she went back to Malaysia. When she went back home with her mother ,the dog was already gone. Her mother cried for many days. Her eyes turned red and swollen but my friend’s daddy won’t revealed the place that he had sent the dog to, no matter how hard they cried. Sometimes, I really don’t understand people like my friend’s dad. I wondered why did he used money as much as 1 thousand dollars to buy a dog and give it away after feelings towards that dog are developed and sometimes fades. Dogs have them rights to live too, although they do not speak to defence their rights. Heartless beings made use of their disability to speak and defence their right to hurt their feelings and more heartless beings inflict physical pain on them. Maybe scientist should design a device to help them speak, to voice out their rights. Then will humans ponder upon their wrongs and redress the grievances of the poor souls.