dog
It's no coincidence that a dog is a man's best friend; they're more faithful than most other animals, and more faithful than many people.
Rosie.
Rosie was my sweet girl. A beautiful chocolate lab, I rescued her from the shelter when she was just 2 years old. She was very shy at first, and a little afraid. I don’t think she was used to love and affection. But she came around and soon enough, she was looking forward to all the kisses and cuddles. Rosie loved to play everything from fetch to catch, but most of all, Rosie loved to hide things. She would grab her ball or a shoe of mine and she would put it somewhere and wait for me to find it. You could see the joy on her little face. I’d watch her hide every item, so I always knew where everything was, but Rosie didn’t know that. I’d pretend to search for her toys or my flip flop (or whatever else she felt like hiding) and Rosie would just follow me around, tail wagging in excitement. One time, Rosie attempted to hide my keys. Thankfully, I heard the jingling because I hadn’t known she was trying to play her favorite game since she had decided to start it without me. I wouldn’t have thought to search under the pile of sweaters in my room. Rosie wasn’t super happy that I caught her in the act, but I made it up to her with hugs and belly rubs. Rosie was my best friend. We did everything together. She even liked to help me cook. Well, she liked to watch me cook and catch whatever food I “accidentally” dropped on the ground for her to eat. She was great at cleaning up those types of messes. I’d chop up some chicken for a salad and Rosie would wait patiently for her pieces. My sweet girl. Rosie loved to watch the stars with me. We would go out in our backyard and sit in our hammock and stargaze. Sometimes we would see a shooting star and I have no idea what Rosie would wish for, but I would always just say thank you. I was already happy and I wanted the universe to know that I was so very grateful. Rosie loved to dance. I would put on our favorite songs and she would stand up on her hind legs for a little bit and dance around. She was a very talented girl and music was one of her favorite things. Sometimes I would sing to her. My voice isn’t the prettiest, but Rosie made me feel like I was pretty great. I miss it. Singing and dancing pretty badly with my dog. No judgment. Just love. I found out Rosie had cancer after a trip to the vet. She had been yelping in pain anytime I tried to put her leash on her and apparently, her lymph nodes were incredibly swollen. Rosie didn’t have much time left. My sweet, happy girl. I made the choice to spend one more night at home with her, keeping her as comfortable and pain free as possible. And I sang to Rosie. We laid outside in our hammock and we looked at all of the stars. I wanted so badly to be able to make a wish and for that wish to be able to keep Rosie with me forever. But there were no shooting stars that night. No one would be granting me any extra time with my sweet girl. The next morning, we drove back to the vet together and I cried the whole way there. My Rosie. The only comfort I found that day was knowing she would no longer be in pain. I miss her beyond words, but I will fondly keep every memory of hide and seek, stargazing and off beat dance parties with my sweet girl for as long as I live. I love you, Rosie.
By Amber Marie Cardona4 years ago in Petlife
Sunny at the End of the Tunnel
It was a bleak and quiet morning, and I had just woken up from a deep sleep, half-conscious and just barely able to open my eyes. My daily routine consisted of; waking up, brushing my teeth, finishing schoolwork, and taking a few bites of food in between. However, today seemed peculiar, as if some colossal event had occurred. I was unable to distinguish what was causing me to feel this way, but I went on with my morning like any other. As I was walking down the stairs, I could hear my puppy, Sunny, barking in the distance. A week prior, my family met a breeder out of town, who ultimately granted us the opportunity of being Sunny's new family.
By Yulia Braverman4 years ago in Petlife
Dixie and I
Dixie wasn't a collie but I wasn't disappointed. Dixies was a fully trained German Shephard Police Dog. Everywhere I went so did Dixie. I had her from a pup, she was was only eight weeks old when I received her as a gift from my uncle. He trained her at Ft. Lee, VA as a police dog. She had one job and that was to protect me from the bullies in the neighborhood.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee4 years ago in Petlife
Tina, Valentina, The Toothless Dog.
Her forehead twitches as she lays on the sofa. Uncontrollable movements that worsen as night grows near. She was dreaming. Or maybe reliving a memory she was less than keen to have, but has become a part of her at this point. Tina is a 45 pound white and brown Australian Cattle dog-mix.
By SheRockScience4 years ago in Petlife
View of a Bear
Living in a pocket-sized town on the NW Coast was a different experience than suburbia in a sprawling city. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone has a dog or two or three in their pickup. Possums, raccoons, deer, and black bear roam between properties and the ocean and bay. I saw a porcupine on the beach once and said to no one except my dog, “Look! A porcupine!” We three were the only mammals on the beach.
By Mawde Olssen4 years ago in Petlife
Boomer’s beginning
It was 2002, and I was back home in northwest PA for hunting season. I called my wife back in Michigan to let her know that I had arrived safe and sound. She told me about this dog that she had heard about from our friends back home while I was traveling. She had always wanted a Sheltie, and there was supposed to be a puppy in my home town available for free. The last thing I felt we needed was a third dog, but we do these things for the ones we love. So, I called the family and made arrangements to see the dog at the end of my hunting trip.
By Erik C. Wilson4 years ago in Petlife
A story of love
It was the beginning of the end of a long abusive relationship. No more fear, no more feeling not good enough, no more control, no more starvation, no more isolation. Only freedom. But it came at a cost. My children, who I lived for, who kept me alive, placed in foster care. I was too unstable and emotionally damaged after 11 years of abuse. My world, fell beneath my feet. I was lost, now alone in this empty house, the silence was deafening. The walls held their laughs, their worries, their tears, their playing, their mischievousness. It was haunting. Disturbed in the night, I heard a cry, he’s calling out for me. I woke to silence, remembering they’re no longer here. Waking up each morning to lay out 5 bowls and fill them with cereal, adding the milk and laying out 5 spoons, only to remember I stand here in this house, alone. They are gone. Breaking down in tears, I felt suicidal. Haunted by memories, for the last time, I seen them playing with toy cars, laughing and being kind to one another. Was I going crazy?
By Deborah Cully4 years ago in Petlife
