My dog. The most important thing currently in my life.
Demi. Weird name, for a weird dog. When I first got her, she was the skinniest little puppy you’d ever seen. She was so abused and hurt. She wouldn’t let anyone get near her or touch her, but me. And that created the bond of a lifetime.
It was funny, because my parents told my siblings and I that she was just here temporarily. Pushing at the fact that we shouldn’t name her or care too much about her. Demi, when I first got her, had these huge black spots all around her body. To my 10 year old self, she resembled an oreo, so in secret that's what I named her. My little Oreo. Eventually it changed, because what an awful name for a dog, but my black spotted, floppy eared oreo became my world.
I still remember the day we were going to send her away. My nameless, helpless dog. I cried. And my little oreo came and sat on my lap and comforted me. I held her so tight feeling her warmth, and tears just streamed down my eyes. She knew I was sad so her little pink tongue just started licking away my tears. Looking back, she probably didn’t care that I was crying and just liked the taste of my salty tears, but I like to think that she sensed my sadness. My mom saw my connection with her, so she stayed. Renamed as Demi, ears grew out of its floppy stage, the big black spots turning brown, and the most energetic puppy you’d ever seen was mine.
One day, during the Christmas season, my grandma was in the process of making tamales. She had decided to take a small break and asked me to watch over the food so the dogs don’t get into it. I did a horrible job. A few minutes later, I hear rustling in the kitchen and I see my dog just eating like she’s never had a meal in her life. I pulled her away and cleaned up the mess, so it seemed like nothing had ever happened. The evidence wasn’t so easily covered because my dog had the smell of corn chips. And that smell still lingers on her, six years later.
My dog. My little energetic, brown and black spotted, pink tongued, corn chipped smelling dog.
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It’s hard for me to not start out a comment with me saying “I (something related to me agreeing with the blog)”, but it’s really the best way to say things. As a fellow dog owner (2 y.o. Patterdale Terrier named Bokken), I couldn’t agree more with dogs being the best, even though they tend to chew and eat everything they see. They really are just there, to bother you and just flat out give comfort.
ReplyDeleteAs someone who owns a dog too, a black and white Border Collie, I can understand the love felt for a dog, even at first sight. And the idea of that dog leaving terrifies you.
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