MY NAME IS SAM
Written by Chris Benton

On the first day of "Speech" 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.

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 speech's 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 euthanised every year, of supposedly beloved pets that were turned in to various animal control facilities for the lamest of reason, or worse dropped off far from home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a blessing.

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 twenty.

As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation, "I can't keep him, he digs holes in my garden." "They're such cute puppies, I know you will have no trouble finding homes for them." "She is wild , I can't control her."

We left the reception area, Ron lead 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 animal, 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 euthanised, since there was no background information on the animal.

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 throw away attitude did to the living breathing animal. It was over 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. "Euthanization 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. He knocked firmly on the door. It was opened immediately by a middle aged woman, in a white lab coat. "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."

Peggy motioned me in. As I walked into the room, I gave a audible gasp. The room was small and sparse. 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 a 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 for 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 wheel barrels, 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.

Finally, Peggy seemed to noticed 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. She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals that were scheduled for euthanasia that day. She picked up the 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.

As Peggy open 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 size 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, 6 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 laid 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 left the room. 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 awhile 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.

The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with Puppy Doe. When my turn came to give my speech. I walked up to the front the class with 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 had got a "A". His comments said "Very moving and persuasive."

Two days latter, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came up to me. She was a older lady that I had never spoken to in class. She stopped me on our way out of the class room. "I want you to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class." She said. "His name is Sam."

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