kimlovescats
06-15-2004, 09:35 PM
Get your tissues out, you're going to need them.
>
> DO NOT MISS THIS TRUE TO LIFE STORY.......
>
> "My Name is Sam"
>
> 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
> matter 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
> only
> about 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 throwaway
> 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. "Euthanasia 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. A
> middle-aged woman in a white lab coat opened it
> immediately.
> "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 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 euthanasia
> 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 I 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 lay 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, I held 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 classroom. "I want you to know that I
> adopted
> the puppy you brought to class," she said.
>
> "His name is Sam."
>
>
> by Chris Benton
>
> DO NOT MISS THIS TRUE TO LIFE STORY.......
>
> "My Name is Sam"
>
> 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
> matter 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
> only
> about 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 throwaway
> 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. "Euthanasia 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. A
> middle-aged woman in a white lab coat opened it
> immediately.
> "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 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 euthanasia
> 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 I 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 lay 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, I held 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 classroom. "I want you to know that I
> adopted
> the puppy you brought to class," she said.
>
> "His name is Sam."
>
>
> by Chris Benton