I knew this day would have to arrive eventually, but for the last 5 weeks, I saw it as a happy day for my dog Hershey – the day she would be reunited with her true owners. I knew I would miss her sweetness and her docile, loving nature, but I assumed that she would be happy to see her owners and return to a stable life at home.
Unfortunately what I didn’t know was that her owners hadn’t seen her in 17 months.
As I put Hershey’s leash on for the first time since she arrived, emptied her water bowl, and placed her few belongings in a plastic bag, I felt sad. She knew something was going on too, and she looked at me with sad, long eyes. I walked her down the stairs. She didn’t want to go. I walked her out the door. She didn’t want to go. I walked her down the street. She didn’t want to go. I walked her toward her owner…
She didn’t even recognize him.
Picturing that moment the last 5 weeks, I had envisioned her running toward her owner and jumping in his arms, her tail wagging and her eyes lit up. I was thus confused, bewildered even. I began to chat with the owner, and found out that they hadn’t seen her since she was a puppy, and that they didn’t even know where in Kathmandu she was or who was taking care of her. The friends they had left her with eventually passed her on to the people who passed her on to me – which means that in the last 17 months she has lived in 4 different homes with four different families.
Suddenly, Hershey’s character all made sense – why she always followed me around everywhere and constantly begged for love. My head began to spin. I wished I could run away with Hershey and keep her with me forever. I WOULD GIVE HER LOVE, I WOULD CARE FOR HER.
But no. She was already being put in the back of the truck. She was going to spend the night outside, at the home her “owners” had just bought and would be moving into the following day. She would be cold, alone, and wondering what she had done again that made another owner give her up.
She looked into my eyes one last time as the owner shut the trunk door. Tears began to run down my face as I tried to explain to the owner what a good dog she was. How she loved food, was perfectly trained, and just wanted love. He didn’t know this about her. He didn’t even know his dog.
This was 4 days ago and the guilt I feel now is just as profound as it was that guiltful day. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be a happy reunion for Hershey. Instead, she is left wondering what she did wrong this time, why she can never seem to keep the love of her owners, and why no one seems to want her.
A Guiltful Day
