After I was discharged from the Navy, Jim and I
moved back to Detroit to use our GI bill benefits to
get some schooling. Jim was going for a degree in
Electronics and I, after much debating, decided to
get mine in Computer Science. One of the classes
that was a requirement was Speech.
Like many people, I had no fondness for getting up
in front of people for any reason, let alone to be the
center of attention as I stuttered my way through some
unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't get out of the requirement,
and so I found myself in my last semester before graduation
with Speech as one of my classes
On the first day of class our professor explained to us that
he was going to leave the subject manner of our talks up to us,
but he was going to provide the motivation of the speech.
We would be responsible for six speeches, each with a
different motivation. For instance our first speech's purpose
was to inform. He advised us to pick subjects that we were
interested in and knowledgeable about. I decided to center
my six speeches around animals, especially dogs.
For my first speech to inform, I talked about the equestrian art of dressage.
For my speech to demonstrate, I brought my German Shepherd, Bodger,
to class and demonstrated obedience commands. Finally the semester
was almost over and I had but one more speech to give. This speech
was to take the place of a written final exam and was to count for
fifty per cent of our grade. The speeches motivation was to persuade.
After agonizing over a subject matter, and keeping with my animal theme,
I decided on the topic of spaying and neutering pets. My goal was to try to
persuade my classmates to neuter their pets. So I started researching the topic.
There was plenty of material, articles that told of the millions of dogs and
cats that were euthanized every year, of supposedly beloved pets that were
turned in to various animal control facilities for the lamest of reasons, or worse,
dropped off far from home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a blessing.
The final speech was looming closer, but I felt well prepared. My notes were
full of facts and statistics that I felt sure would motivate even the most naive
of pet owners to succumb to my plea. A couple of days before our speeches
were due, I had the bright idea of going to the local branch of the Humane
Society and borrowing a puppy to use as a sort of a visual aid. I called the
Humane Society and explained what I wanted. They were very happy to
accommodate me. I made arrangements to pick up a puppy the day before my speech.
The day before my speech, I went to pick up the puppy. I was feeling very confident.
I could quote all the statistics and numbers without ever looking at my notes.
The puppy, I felt, would add the final emotional touch. When I arrived at the
Humane Society I was met by a young guy named Ron. He explained that he
was the public relations person for the Humane Society.
He was very excited about my speech and asked if I would like a tour
of the facilities before I picked up the puppy. I enthusiastically agreed.
We started out in the reception area, which was the general public's initial
encounter with the Humane Society. The lobby was full, mostly with people
dropping off various animals that they no longer wanted Ron explained to me
that this branch of the Humane Society took in about fifty animals a day
and adopted out twenty.
As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation: "I can't keep him,
he digs holes in my garden." "They are such cute puppies, I know you will
have no trouble finding homes for them." "She is wild, I can't control her."
I heard one of Humane Society's volunteer explain to the lady with the
litter of puppies that the Society was filled with puppies and that these
puppies, being black, would immediately be put to sleep. Black puppies,
she explained, had little chance of being adopted. The woman who brought
the puppies in just shrugged, "I can't help it," she whined. "They are
getting too big. I don't have room for them."
We left the reception area. Ron led me into the staging area where
all the incoming animals were evaluated for adoptability. Over half never
even made it to the adoption center. There were just too many. Not only
were people bringing in their own animals, but strays were also dropped off.
By law the Humane Society had to hold a stray for three days.
If the animal was not claimed by then, it was euthanized, since
there was no background information on the animal.
There were already too many animals that had a known history
eagerly provided by their soon-to-be ex-owners. As we went through
the different areas, I felt more and more depressed. No amount of statistics
could take the place of seeing the reality of what this throw-away attitude
did to the living, breathing animal. It was overwhelming
Finally Ron stopped in front of a closed door. "That's it," he said, "except for this."
I read the sign on the door. "Euthanization Area." "Do you want to see one?" he asked.
Before I could decline, he interjected, "You really should. You can't tell the whole
story unless you experience the end." I reluctantly agreed.
"Good." He said " I already cleared it and Peggy is expecting you."
He knocked firmly on the door. It was opened immediately by a
middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. "Here's the girl I was telling you
about," Ron explained. Peggy looked me over. "Well I'll leave you here with Peggy
and meet you in the reception area in about fifteen minutes. I'll have the puppy ready."
With that Ron departed, leaving me standing in front of the stern-looking Peggy.
Peggy motioned me in. As I walked into the room, I gave an audible gasp.
The room was small and spartan. There were a couple of cages on the wall and
a cabinet with syringes and vials of a clear liquid. In the middle of the room was an
examining table with a rubber mat on top. There were two doors other than the one
I had entered. Both were closed. One said to the incinerator room, and the other
had no sign, but I could hear various animals noises coming from behind the closed door.
In the back of the room, near the door that was marked incinerator were the objects
that caused my distress: two wheelbarrows, filled with the bodies of dead kittens and
puppies. I stared in horror. Nothing had prepared me for this. I felt my legs grow weak
and my breathing become rapid and shallow. I wanted to run from that room, screaming.
Peggy seemed not to notice my state of shock. She started talking about the euthanization process,
but I wasn't hearing her. I could not tear my gaze away from the wheelbarrows and those dozens
of pathetic little bodies. Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was not paying attention to her.
"Are you listening?" she asked irritably. "I'm only going to go through this once." I tore my gaze
from the back of the room and looked at her. I opened my mouth to say something,
but nothing would come out, so I nodded.
She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals that were scheduled for
euthanasia that day. She picked up a chart that was hanging from the wall. "One fifty three is next,"
she said as she looked at the chart. "I'll go get him." She laid down the chart on the examining table
and started for the unmarked door. Before she got to the door she stopped and turned around.
"You aren't going to get hysterical, are you?" she asked, "Because that will only upset the animals."
I shook my head. I had not said a word since I walked into that room. I still felt unsure if would be
able to without breaking down into tears.
As Peggy opened the unmarked door I peered into the room beyond. It was a small room,
but the walls were lined and stacked with cages. It looked like they were all occupied.
Peggy opened the door of one of the lower cages and removed the occupant. From what
I could see it looked like a medium-sized dog. She attached a leash and ushered the dog
into the room in which I stood.
As Peggy brought the dog into the room I could see that the dog was no more than a puppy,
maybe five or six months old. The pup looked to be a cross between a Lab and a German shepherd.
He was mostly black, with a small amount of tan above his eyes and on his feet. He was very excited
and bouncing up and down, trying to sniff everything in this new environment.
Peggy lifted the pup onto the table. She had a card in her hand, which she laid on the table next to me.
I read the card. It said that number one fifty three was a mixed Shepherd, six months old.
He was surrendered two days ago by a family. Reason of surrender was given as "jumps on children."
At the bottom was a note that said "Name: Sam."
Peggy was quick and efficient, from lots of practice, I guessed. She laid one fifty three down
on his side and tied a rubber tourniquet around his front leg. She turned to fill the syringe from
the vial of clear liquid. All this time I was standing at the head of the table. I could see the moment
that one fifty three went from a curious puppy to a terrified puppy. He did not like being held down
and he started to struggle.
It was then that I finally found my voice. I bent over the struggling puppy and
whispered "Sam. Your name is Sam." At the sound of his name Sam quit struggling.
He wagged his tail tentatively and his soft pink tongue darted out and licked my hand.
And that is how he spent his last moment. I watched his eyes fade from hopefulness to nothingness.
It was over very quickly. I had never even seen Peggy give the lethal shot. The tears could not be
contained any longer. I kept my head down so as not to embarrass myself in front of the stoic Peggy.
My tears fell onto the still body on the table.
"Now you know," Peggy said softly. Then she turned away. "Ron will be waiting for you."
I left the room. Although it seemed like it had been hours, only fifteen minutes had gone
by since Ron had left me at the door.
I made my way back to the reception area. True to his word, Ron had the puppy all ready to go.
After giving me some instructions about what to feed the puppy, he handed the carrying cage
over to me and wished me good luck on my speech.
That night I went home and spent many hours playing with the orphan puppy. I went to bed that
night but I could not sleep. After a while I got up and looked at my speech notes with their numbers
and statistics. Without a second thought, I tore them up and threw them away. I went back to bed.
Sometime during the night I finally fell asleep. The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with
Puppy Doe. When my turn came to give my speech. I walked up to the front the class with the
puppy in my arms. I took a deep breath, and I told the class about the life and death of Sam.
When I finished my speech I became aware that I was crying. I apologized to the class and
took my seat. After class the teacher handed out a critique with our grades. I got an "A."
His comments said "Very moving and persuasive."
Two days later, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came up to me.
She was an older lady that I had never spoken to in class
She stopped me on
our way out of the class room.
"I want you to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class," she said.
"His name is Sam."