You came to us heavy with child. Someone didn't want you or your babies. You were skinny and care worn but you held your head high. You didn't trust us at first but you did let us feed you. Finally you would let us near you. From that day on you wagged your tail and were always at our side, no matter what the time of day. When I left for work you were there. When I came home from work in the wee hours of the morning, you were there. When I got up there you were. When I took out the trash, went to the mail box or fed the other pets you were always by my side. You wagged your tail and asked nothing more than to be loved. We didn't know your real name so we just called you Lady. You didn't seem to mind. After about a month you had your puppies. Six of them died, probably because of the lack of care before you got to us. You were a good mother to the remaining eight. You fed them and cleaned them. You were always with them. Than you got sick. You quit feeding your offspring. My wife and I are bottle feeding them. You quit eating. You no longer came out to meet us. You started making messes in the house, something you had never done before. You still wagged your tail when we came to you and held you, but it was obvious you weren't getting any better. The $1400 that I bring home every month doesn't go very far and my credit card is maxed out from vet bills for previous unwanted friends that had been dropped off near us. We kept hoping that you'd get better but you just kept slipping farther away. I couldn't stand to see you in pain. Finally I took spade, pick and shovel and dug the hole, crying. Still crying I hold you and try to get you to eat or drink something. "Please Lady," I say, "show me any sign that you are getting better." but you just lay your head on my lap and looked at me with loving glazed eyes. Im crying harder now. I carry you outside under a tree. It isnt difficult. You are a big dog but you're reduced to skin and bones. I hold you. I tell you youre loved. I beg you for any sign, no matter how slight that you are going to get better but once again you just look at me with those trusting brown eyes. I take my pistol and put a bullet in your brain. You go stiff and fall on your side. You wag your tail. I pray youre thanking me for ending your misery. Than youre gone. Still crying, I put you in the hole and cover you. It is not in me to hate my fellow man but at this moment but at this moment I wish all who abuse or abandon their pets into a special hell. I hate them for what they have done to them and for what they have done to me. Im tired of seeing good pets so afraid of people that they never let you near them. Im tired of digging holes in the ground and then filling them back in. I keep telling myself that Ill quit taking them in but thats not in me either. Im tired of crying for other peoples pets. We live just far enough out of town that people think its the ideal place to drop their unwanted pets. This scene plays itself out four to six times a year. Sometimes the end is much better, sometimes worse.