To whom it may concern,

I am looking for a “sibling” for my 10-month-old husky, Mia. Some people believe I am crazy for wanting to get another puppy. My home already offers shelter and love to three teenage boys and the recent addition of a dog not quite 1.

But I believe there is always room for another dog. A playmate for Mia and another being in which to love. I know the perfect one is out there and I’m hoping we will be led in their direction.

To whom it may concern,

Today I drove to your home. Although I cannot remember your name — if you even gave it to me at all, I want you to know how overcome with sorrow my husband and I were at seeing the conditions in which your dogs were living.

Upon our arrival, I took notice of the puppies you had advertised as being “free” on the bulletin board at our local grocery. Well, it was actually my son, Caleb, who had seen the notice. And this 14-year-old boy pleadingly asked me if we could come and look at your dogs.

They were 3-months-old at this time. It was late November. We walked around to your backyard. The puppies were running loose everywhere. Hiding behind tires lying in the yard, skipping around tools and other instruments on which they could have been injured, getting into the garbage. One appeared scared and shy — staying by herself near a shed. Their mother looked frail and exhausted … tied to a chain which wasn’t even long enough to reach her puppies should they need her assistance.

Mothers protect. You took that away from her.

I’ve always found it exceptionally sad when I think how confused and upset a female dog will become when her babies are suddenly gone. Given away to strangers. And without even obtaining her consent. But that’s neither here nor there. We took the scared, shy one. How I had wished we could have taken the rest. Instead, I said a silent prayer they would be rescued from your “care” quickly.

To whom it may concern,

Although I am unable to recall even the vicinity in which you lived — let alone your address, I want you to be aware that as we left your residence with our husky-and-lab-mix in my arms, I cried for the remaining ones still there. I cried for the mother you had promised to look after. And didn’t. At least not very well.

I want you know I am aware that you either beat or maimed my puppy. Her name is now Shayley. Yes, she has a name. I named her because she is a living, breathing miracle created by God. Everyone and everything deserves to have a name and should be treated with unwavering compassion and quiet understanding.

A puppy, no matter what they have done, certainly does not warrant a broken tail which never healed, nor a knot on their head which will be present until her last breath. She has always been a little “special,” but it has made her all the more endearing.

To whom it may concern,

Throughout the years, I have heard from others who had rescued some of Shayley’s siblings. They informed me how their dogs died several years ago, while Shaylee kept holding on … barking that deep, loud bark and loving those infrequent walks.

But these past 13 1/2 years have finally taken their toll. It is now evident that time has won. A massive, 10-pound tumor formed on her stomach a couple months ago. Lumps began protruding from her skinny, frail body. To stand up on her own has become such a struggle. But how she tries. I have never seen such determination. Ever. She is my champion.

It is because of her that no matter how horrible I may be feeling, I will always attempt to go on.

She is what gives me my strength.

How I have sought a miracle which never came. But God doesn’t answer every prayer the way we would like.

How it breaks me to see her staggering and having to walk with the assistance of someone having to hold her. How it pains me to look in her eyes after she has fallen and see she is growing tired of living like this.

To whom it may concern,

I pray that dogs are permitted in heaven. I have always heard it is an extraordinary place. Paradise.

It is my belief that any place which is considered to be perfection would have to include a dog.

Please let there be dogs.

To whom it may concern,

Please do not judge me for having to make the most difficult decision life has ever bestowed upon me.

I cannot watch one of my most beloved treasures struggling minute-by-minute any longer.

Unable to even get into a comfortable position to lie down. Her tumor bleeds. It has become infected. And that loud bark — she doesn’t use it anymore.

To Shayley, whom this does concern,

Please forgive me. Please.

I never meant to take away any time from you. Not a second.

You are far too important to me to watch you live in agony.

And I never want for you to die in anguish and scared about what’s happening. You were such a good, good girl.

Still mustering the strength to get yourself up to go outside, when necessary. Still waddling to the door when I come home from work. Your broken tail wagging as best it could.

I can never thank you enough for the 13 wonderful years you have brought to our lives. You’ve outlasted a husband and the boys who grew up and moved away.

I can only hope I brought you an ounce of the happiness which you have given me.

No one truly grasps the concept of a dog being man’s best friend … until they own a dog. You have not only been my best friend, but one of my only true friends. Thank you for that.

Taking you to the vet in order to let you go is an act I never would have considered before now. How I am torn. A mother protects. As your mom, I feel as if I am not doing my job. I am so, so sorry.

Literally the hardest thing one ever has to do is let someone they love, go.

You made our family complete. You’ve brought meaning to my life. Loved me unconditionally.

I pray your bark returns and you run like you’ve never ran in this life. I’ll be waiting to see you again. Please remember me when that time comes.

All my love,

Mom

(Stenger is the community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times.)