Dogs Don't Have Souls Do They?

I remember bringing you home. You were so small and cuddly with your tiny paws and soft fur.
You bounced around the room with eyes flashing and ears flopping. Once in awhile, you’d let out a little yelp, just to let me know this was your territory.
Making a mess of the house and chewing on everything in sight became a passion, and when I scolded you, you just put your head down and looked up at me with those innocent eyes, as if to say, "I’m sorry, but I’ll do it again as soon as you’re not watching."
As you got older, you protected me by looking out the window and barking at  everyone who walked by.
When I had a tough day at work, you would be waiting for me  with your tail wagging just to say, "Welcome home. I missed you." You never had a bad day, and I could always count on you to be there for me.
 When I sat down to read the paper and watch television, you would hop on my lap, looking for attention. You never asked for anything more than to have me pat your head so you could go to sleep with your head over my leg.
As you got older, you moved around more slowly. Then, one day, old age finally took its toll, and you couldn’t stand on those wobbly legs anymore. I knelt down and patted you lying there, trying to make you young again. You just looked up at me as if to say you were old and tired and that after all these years of not asking for anything, you had to ask me for one last favor.
With tears in my eyes, I drove you one last time to the vet. One last time, you were lying next to me.   For some strange reason, you were able to stand up in the animal hospital; perhaps it was your sense of pride.
As the vet led you away, you stopped for an instant, turned your head, and looked at me as if to say, "Thank you for taking care me."  I thought, "No, thank you for taking care of me."
- Chuck Wells -

 

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A Stray's Prayer

 
Dear God, please send me somebody who'll care!
I'm tired of running, I'm sick with despair.
 
My body is aching, it's so racked with pain,
and dear God I pray, as I run in the rain,
 
That someone will love me and give me a home,
a warm cozy bed and a big juicy bone.
 
My last owner tied me all day in the yard
Sometimes with no water, and God that was hard.
 
So I chewed my leash, and God I ran away.
To rummage in garbage and live as a stray.
 
But now God, I'm tired and hungry and cold,
and I'm so afraid that I'll never grow old.
 
They've chased me with sticks and hit me with stones,
while I run in the streets just looking for bones!
 
I'm not really bad, God, please help me if you can,
for I have become just a "Victim of Man!"
 
I'm wormy, dear God, and I'm ridden with fleas,
and all that I want is an Owner to please!
 
If you find one for me God, I'll try to be good,
and I won't chew their shoes, and I'll do as I should.
 
I'll love them, protect them and try to obey,
when they tell me to sit, to lie down or stay!
 
I don't think I'll make it too long on my own,
'cause I'm getting so weak and I'm so all alone.
 
Each night as I sleep in the bushes I cry,
'cause I'm so afraid God, that I'm going to die.
 
And I've got so much love and devotion to give,
that I should be given a new chance to Live!
 
So dear God, please answer my prayer,
and send me someone who will REALLY care...
 
That is, dear God, if YOU'RE REALLY there!
~Author Unknown~

 

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