Doctor, youre just not listening to me! Hes not ill. Hes just… old. He stinks like an old dog, hes shedding horribly, and yesterday he couldnt even hold it until his walk. Weve got Italian laminate floorsjust finished renovation! And him he wheezes all night, and keeps us both awake. Just put him to sleep. Ill pay double, just do it without any suffering, please. The young woman tugged the lead, looking down at the enormous, noble, but heartbreakingly sad German Shorthaired Pointer, his grey muzzle betraying his years.
Alex, a vet with fifteen years under his belt, slowly removed his glasses. He hated clients like thesethe “put him to sleep” sort. For them, a pet is just an accessory. Like a designer handbag: fine when its shiny and new, but as soon as it gets scuffed, into the bin it goes.
Does the dog have a name? Alex asked, ignoring the woman and focusing on the dog himself. The Pointer looked up at Alex with deep, intelligent amber eyes. He understood exactly what was happening. He didnt whimper he already knew hed been betrayed.
Duke. But we just call him Deaf now. Hes gone deaf, cant follow commands. Useless lump, really, chipped in the womans husband, barely glancing up from his phone. Can we just get on with it, Doctor? Our flight to Thailand is this evening. We really havent got the time to faff around.
Alex knelt down by the big dog. Duke sniffed his hand, then licked it gently with his warm, rough tongue. Alexs heart clenched. The dog was healthy. Sure, he was old. His joints hurt, probably had a touch of cystitiswhich would explain the puddle on the new floors. But that could be treated. It wasnt a death sentence.
Alright, said Alex, his voice frosty. Leave him here. Its a long process, you dont need to wait around. Ill take care of everything.
Brilliant! The woman pulled out a wad of notesnever even counting themand threw them on the table. You can bin the lead, its knackered.
They were gone in a flash, not so much as a backwards glance. Duke stared after them, then gave a quiet sigh and curled up on the cold surgical floor, head resting on his paws. From his clouded elderly eyes a single big tear rolled down. Dogs really do crywhatever anyone says.
Alex locked up for his lunch break. He filled a bowl with water. Well, Duke, he said softly, how about staying with me for a bit? No fancy floors here, just old linoleumpee wherever you like. Well get you sorted.
Alex didnt put Duke to sleep. Instead, he drove him out to his fathers place. His dad, Uncle Mike, had been living alone in a little village for five years now. Just as lonelyand just as past itas Duke.
Dad, youve got a new lodger, Alex announced, helping Duke out of the car. Beautiful dog. Pedigree and all, but the owners didnt want him scuffing up the home.
Uncle Mike looked at the dog. Duke looked right back at him. They understood each other without a wordtwo old souls cast aside by the young and the restless.
Amazingly, Duke perked up. Fresh country air, no stress, and genuine care worked wonders. Turned out he wasnt even properly deafjust blocked up with earwax, which Alex quickly fixed. His coat got glossy. Smelling better, tooUncle Mike gave him baths in the old washtub and brushed him regularly.
But most importantly, Duke had someone who needed him. They went fishing togetherDuke, remembering his gundog roots, would freeze on point at the sight of ducks, making Uncle Mike laugh until he cried. In the evenings, they would sit out on the step. Uncle Mike puffed his pipe and reminisced about the old days, while Duke listened quietly, his heavy head resting on the old mans knee.
Uncle Mike changed, too. His breathlessness faded, his blood pressure evened out. He finally had a reason to get up in the morning.
Alex, sonthank you, he told him over the phone. This isnt just a dog. Hes a real gent. Just wears a coat.
Two years passed.
One weekend, Alex drove out to visit his dad. They decided on a walk to the local lake, where a fancy holiday lodge for city folks had just opened. Duke ran ahead, carrying a stick with pride. Fourteen years old and still as keen as ever.
In the lodge car park was a familiar white Range Rover. Out stepped the same womanthinner now, drawn, but still wearing designer labels head to toe. Her companion now was a different manolder, clearly wealthier. She held a tiny Pomeranian on a glittery lead, dressed up to the nines.
Duke stopped dead. He recognised herher perfume, that unmistakable perfume hed never forgotten. He dropped his stick, took a hesitant step towards her, and wagged his tail. There was no malice in his big hearthe was ready to forgive.
She spotted the massive dog. With a squeal, she yanked her Pomeranian close. Get that dog away from me! she shrieked. How revolting! Horrible animal, go away!
She didnt recognise him. She had no idea that this beautiful, healthy, proud creature was the disgusting old mongrel shed abandoned years ago. To her, he was just some muddy country mutt.
Duke stood still. He looked right at her, then glanced at the shivering Pomeranian, tucked under her arm. In Dukes wise eyes, there was something like pity. He understood: she hadnt changed at all. And the tiny dog would end up just like he nearly hadtossed aside as soon as he fell out of fashion.
Duke, lad, here! Uncle Mike called quietly. Duke turned away, head held high, casting one last lookfull of dignity shed never possessthen trotted back to his real master. To the one who loved him for his heart, not his pedigree.
Alex wandered over to the woman. Hes a handsome dog, dont you think? he asked.
Horrible! she sniffed. Ive always hated big dogs. I used to have one like that completely brainless. We had him put down.
I remember, Alex replied. I was the one who put him down. Only, he lived. And now hes living better than you.
The woman froze, staring after the retreating dog.
Thats Duke?
Thats Duke. But hes not yours any more. Thank goodness for that. Because dogstheyre a mirror. If theyre stuck around rotten people, they waste away. But with good folk beside them, they flourish.
Alex jogged to catch up with his father. The woman stood in the car park, swallowing the dust of their footsteps. Her new beau yanked her arm, scowling: Why are you just standing there? Come on, Ive not got all day. And shut up that little rat, its yapping its head off.
She looked down at the Pomeranian. Then after the man. Suddenly, a bolt of loneliness as sharp as what Duke once felt on that cold surgery floor ran through her.
She realisedit wouldnt be long before she herself would be the next one cast aside by her pack of throwaways, as soon as her looks faded and the first wrinkles appeared.
You know, its so easy for us to get rid of somethingor someonejust because theyre not convenient anymore, forgetting that loyalty never goes out of date. But lifes a boomerang. If you betray those who depend on you, sooner or later the world pays it back the same way. Old age and frailty await us all. What matters is that when those days come, theres someone by your side who remembers your warmth, not just your appearance.
So, have you ever rescued a pet from a shelter, or saved one from being put down?
