For No Reason

I wrote this as a teenager and forgot it existed until I found it again in old files. I’m putting it here because the core point is still true, and still denied. It’s told in the voice of a dog, but it’s not a breed or pet-specific statement. It’s a sequence statement. Same logic applies to any animal living under chronic neglect or abuse.

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When I was just a puppy, barely old enough to leave my mom, you showed up. There were a bunch of us, all squirmy and goofy, squealing and stepping on each other. But you picked me out of all of them so I felt special. I felt safe.

I was excited to go home with you. I thought we’d be buddies. I’d ride in the car, run around the yard, maybe sleep by your feet. I learned fast. I went outside like I was supposed to. I learned to sit. I learned to stay off the couch even though it smelled like you. I tried real hard to be good.

Every day I loved you more. I trusted you more. I stuck by you no matter what. I watched the house. I listened to your moods. I stayed loyal even when you didn't. I didn’t leave. I didn't fight back. And many times I was there for you when nobody else was. I tried to love your bad days away.

Then, for no reason, you became my hell.

It started when you were in a bad mood. You tied me to a short rope like I was trash you threw out. I thought it was for a short time but it turned into forever. When you remembered, you would toss me food scraps. Most of the time my food sat on the dirt so long it turned black with ants. I was so hungry that I tried to eat around them. You didn’t notice, or care.

It was over a 100 degrees. The ground burned my feet. My tongue was dry and thick in my mouth. There was no water. I just sat there, shaking, bugs crawling into my skin, chewing holes in me while my hair fell out in patches. I was scared all the time. My body oozed in pain.

Then winter came. Below zero. Snow. Ice. The doghouse was a joke. I barely fit. My water bowl was frozen solid. I licked it anyway until my tongue went numb and hurt from sticking to it. As I grew, the collar didn’t move. It dug into my neck until swallowing felt like choking. Every ounce of breath hurt. I started to give up. Death would be better than this.

The only time you touched me was when you were drunk and loud and trying to impress your friends. That’s when you kicked me. That’s when you hit me. That’s when you laughed. Abusing me made you feel powerful.

At night I heard the other dogs. Doors opening. Engines starting. Kids laughing. I heard “Good dog” like it was a word meant for a different species. I didn’t understand why I was being punished.

I learned your body language better than you ever learned mine. I knew by the way you slammed the car door how bad it was going to be for me. I knew when to brace for impact. I knew when to tuck my tail and try to become invisible.

I thought about my mom a lot in the quiet of the night. I wondered if she knew where I was. If she would recognize me now. If she meant for this to be my life. I waited for her to come back, but she never came.

My cuts healed slowly. My bruises faded slowly. But the fear never stopped. And the pain never left my body or soul.

Then one day you came at me again, eyes cold, breath reeking, fist already raised like it always was, and something in me snapped. I didn’t cower this time. I broke the rope and I became your hell.

This time it was your blood on the ground. Not mine. The fear you fed me every day finally landed in your eyes. I could have killed you. I didn’t.

You called me awful names. But as you drove to the emergency room, did you even realize that I could have killed you but didn't? After everything you did to me, I still stopped and allowed you to live.

You called everyone you knew. You only told your half of the story.

“My dog attacked me for no reason.”

Then, the animal shelter killed me that same day.

And while I was dying, I tried to figure out what I did wrong.

• I obeyed.
• I stayed loyal.
• I loved you.
• I believed you when you said you loved me.
• I believed you when you held me as a puppy and said you’d take care of me.

Those were my only mistakes.

When it ended, the pain finally stopped. No more rope. No more beatings. No more pain.

So yeah.

Dogs don’t attack for no reason.

They break.

That's why you should never stay silent when you see animal abuse. You have the power to save a life. Do it.

© Originally written by Mozelle Martin at age 16; pictures added in 2013 and published on her old Wordpress site; now being shared here today.