Dog

My love for dogs began at the tender age of six when my cousin, who was only a year older than me, took me with her in the back of her truck to the pet store and introduced me to four very large German shepherds. They were so big that I sat on the floor and watched them walk around the car at the same time while she put one of them down to take a nap. It was just funny how they would stop now and then and walk over to see what I wanted. This happened more often the

bigger the dog. The little white one was always trying to get at me, but he was too small.

I think about this every time I feel anxious or sad. So many times he has sniffed me up and down the house, to make sure and to reassure me that everything is okay. He doesn’t know that I am having a hard day at work, or even that I left without him. Not only that, but when he looks into my eyes and sees that nothing is wrong, he knows it all too well. When my cousin brought us home from the pet store, I felt a new sense of happiness, I never had before. I loved the feeling of his paw rubbing against mine. How it made my heart beat faster and my body feels warmer and I felt like a warm blanket wrapped around me. I felt safe and comfortable. I was happy. He was my security blanket. Since the moment we met, we shared a special bond. We are both a bit naughty to each other, no question about it. However... I didn't realize at that early age that he could do some pretty outrageous things. Like pulling out all his fur and chewing me until I cried. Do you know those people who walk around barefoot? That's where I thought he stood! But no, he couldn't stand all the way but he did a lot more than that.

The next time he came home, I opened the door just as fast as possible, thinking he might have run through my room. Nope. He went right through mine. Then my bed. Next thing you know, we're sitting together watching tv on our couch, and by the end of the show, he sleeps on top of me and snores loudly. Every night since then, he has been my world my whole life, and I don't mind sharing him with anyone, especially when they are the most wonderful humans on earth. Some of my best friends would be perfect pets for my family. Who wouldn't want a fluffy greyhound? Or maybe a golden retriever or a red lab? Honestly, there's not anything I'd rather give up in life for a furry friend. And besides, if we weren't good enough for others, why bother bringing someone else home when you can share with your own two pups? Plus I don't think any human will want to take care of a puppy in their household. All that cuddling and cuddling sounds gross to me. If you choose to bring a stray dog into your home, please understand it's not something to be taken lightly or to pass up on. Some people are just too scared of dealing with animals, and we don't want any part in that. Maybe try looking up breeders online where you can find a rescue for free and/or have a vet check the animal out if it's healthy enough to be adopted. Don't let fear keep you from taking the risk because you aren't ready yet to adopt an animal or take care of it yourself. Trust me, I know it's scary to leave a canine behind. I've lived almost my entire life in a city full of dogs. There's just something different when you are right by a large herd of animals roaming the streets and when the barking comes to a halt. I've learned how to deal with the noise better now that I'm used to it. My first real adventure started when my sister told me one day to go outside. She wanted to go into town to grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I knew the area well, she had gone to school there. So when my brother asked me if I wanted to, I said yes, but it wasn't really for me. Instead, I wanted to go with her to pick up something. I figured I'd meet up with her later; I still hadn't decided which place that was.

When I got back from picking up her coffee and sandwiches, but only halfway back from going to my grandma's place. As soon as I started walking toward the building, I couldn't see the parking lot where the sign said "Parking Lot". My phone told me it was close but I was confused. After parking and turning off the street, I realized there wasn't a building between me and my grandmamma's house. I walked across the road to where she lived and parked on the lawn.

Little did I know, that would serve as the final nail in the coffin. She would come over and sit down on the

swing, waiting for me to come back out to her yard with our coffee and snack packs. Of course, it was after I finished eating with her that I finally said, "I'm sorry." She laughed nervously and looked down at her hands, and I noticed tears in them. "You're sorry?" she asked. "Yes," I replied, "I'm sorry that we broke up." Her face changed a mile. 'Oh,' she said quietly. 'There's no need to apologize.' Those words still make me upset. I should have known she was upset. Especially when the following week, we were both working at the grocery store. With work and a little extra cash, it seemed like a great idea to stay over a week, hang out and eat a few nights with Grandma Yoda. Sure enough, after a couple of days, I came home tired and hungry and found the dining table empty and dinner prepared. The last supper that would be eaten at the table was the cheeseburger I used to eat and a pack of Cheetos. Looking out the window, I saw my mom standing on the porch laughing uproariously. Now all I could think of was, "I'll cook tonight and eat it with Grandma Yoda. What did I miss? Did I forget something? I'm pretty sure she was laughing harder that week than she ever had before she couldn't have gotten away with the laughter in front of my mom. I don't mean to sound rude but I had to laugh along with her. I felt so silly and embarrassed.