Below is a touching story for you to read
Adious

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 bellyrub.

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't let 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. The prisoner of love had run out of days.
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
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. And
with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of
my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will
think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.