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Letter to a Shelter Dog

By Randi Bildner

Dear Shelter-Dog,

I wanted to address this letter to you by name—but sadly, you do not have one.

I needed to write this letter for many reasons; I have so many things to say to you, and there is so much that I want you to know.

First and foremost I want you to know that you are loved. You are thought of and prayed for each and every day by many kind people.

I want you to know that you did nothing wrong: you simply couldn’t, for wrongdoing is not in your nature.

I don’t know what cruel twist of fate brought you to this place, but I do know that you do not deserve to be here.

I don’t know it if was decided that you were too large or too small, if you barked too much or too little, if someone became allergic to you or if it was simply decided one day that you were an inconvenience.

I don’t know if the children that you were given to lost interest in you when you were not a puppy anymore and no longer considered cute or fun.

I don’t know if you became too old or too sick or if your medical problems became too expensive.

I don’t know if you simply lost your way one day.

I am not sure if you were thrown from a car or dropped off by the side of a road, left behind—you may have waited patiently, bewildered, wondering why those you loved never came back.

I don’t know if your family moved away and decided not to take you.

I don’t know if you were tortured—taught to fight against your will, and when you loyally obeyed you were punished further by being brought here.

I don’t know if your owner died not wanting to leave you behind.

What I do know is this: you are important and you are loved.

I do know that I want to hold you and take away your pain. I want to show you the love and kindness that you deserve.

I want you to know that it breaks my heart when I can't save you.

I want you to know that you are special. Just as special, just as important as any dog living in a home now—because any of those dogs could be you.

You come in all sizes shapes and colors. You have unique personalities and behaviors. It saddens me that the beauty of your kind soul will never be known and cannot be shared from your jail cell.

You may not have a name but you do have a soul and I do know that one day there will be peace for you.

God will shower you with the love and warmth you deserve. You will run through the greenest of pastures and feel the warm sun on your face. You will have your very own toys to play with and a comfortable bed to call your own. You will never be sick; feel pain or be lonely again.

Your fur will shine and your tail will wag.

You are loved, and you are wanted. Your pleading eyes have burned holes in the hearts of all of us who love you; this is something that I really want you to know.

I want to end my letter to you with a promise. I promise that I will work towards putting an end to shelter life because this is not a place for a beautiful soul like yours.

I want to look into your loving warm eyes and tell you that there is hope; I want you to know that this fight will continue for as long as it takes—it will continue until you are free.