Sally. The name I gave my first pet dog.
I was a mere sophomore when I got Sally. On my way home I saw her at the gate of a yard I frequently pass. I was charmed by the cute little bundle of joy. I asked the owner if I could get her. She agreed because Sally was only one of eight. I carried her home in a carton box on my one hour commute. Sally was a great companion. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could see her. I could tell the feeling was mutual because every evening when I get home, she would be waiting at the gate for me.
Sally had several pups, all but one survived, Spike.
One evening I got home and Sally wasn’t in her usual place. I asked my mom where she was and without any warning, my mom told me that she is DEAD. Everything around me stopped. I could hear my heart pounding. I went to my room…
Several months later, my dad brought home Beethoven. Another cute, fat and cuddly pup I thought. Beethoven was uber special. I trained him (to the best of MY amateur ability) to come, sit, rollover (not really) and other simple tasks – like stay. On weekends we had the most fun together. I loved watching him play with the cats. Unaware that they are mortal enemies, they were so innocent.
Like a sudden earthquake, death struck again. Again I was at school and my mother dropped the news on me again. This time little Beethoven swallowed a tooth. I couldn’t keep back the tears. I was heartbroken. It was in that moment that I partially closed off my heart. I refused to get that attached for fear of loosing … loosing.
I am getting teary eyed writing this post.
R.I.P My pups.