Last summer, I lost my dog Katie. She was a Bichon
Frise, with white fluffy fur and a small black nose. Though I was only 3 years
old, I still remember the day we got her.
We went to a house that originally had a litter of seven
puppies. But by the time we got there, there were only two left, a boy and a
girl. The boy jumped and ran around the pin, barking incessantly and was full
of energy. But the girl sat there, looking up at us, with her big brown eyes.
My mom wanted to get the boy because he seemed to have more personality. But my
dad and I wanted the girl because of how calm and sweet she seemed. After a
bit, we convinced my mom into getting the girl, and we named her Katie, after
my dad’s grandma who had recently passed.
For the next 13 years, Katie filled our lives with love and
happiness. She was so sweet and kind to everyone. She was playful, yet her
energy and presence was calming. Katie was the runt of her litter, which led to
her having some weird tendencies. For example, she wouldn’t go outside if it
had rained because she didn’t want to get her paws wet. She also loved to eat the
grass outside, and she would only eat one brand of dog food (though she
preferred human food).
For a long time, Katie was the only dog we had, and we took
her everywhere. Every single day on the way to my elementary school, while I
sat in my little pink car seat, Katie sat on my lap and stuck her head out of
the window. She loved the feeling of the window blowing on her face. We would
also take her to dance class and friends’ houses because of her love of people.
She was the kindest and most selfless being I have ever encountered.
It was almost as though Katie could sense how I was feeling. Whenever I
would feel sad, it was like Katie knew. She would come sit on my lap and nuzzle
her head on my face, almost wiping my tears away. No were words spoken, yet it
was so comforting
Last summer, after 13 years with Katie, she began to get sick. She
had arthritis in her back legs, so we had to carry her everywhere. She also had
tumors on her stomach that got worse and worse. When this happened, we knew her
time was coming. And I was devastated. I couldn’t even remember my life without
her. But one day, she was no longer there, and it had a big impact on my life.
It feels trite to say that losing a pet is like losing a family
member. They’re more than that. They love us unconditionally, which is a lot
more than what can be said about most humans
Dogs are too pure for this world. They tend to love us more than
they love themselves. Their selflessness Humans have a lot of selfish tendencies, as we’re so
consumed in our own lives. I believe that we can learn a lot from our dogs. They teach us a lot
about love, life, loss, and happiness
First of all, I love your dog's (and your grandmother's) name. Second of all, I agree that losing your pet can be just as devastating as (or more devastating than) losing a family member. After my cat died, it took me a while to even understand that he was permanently gone, just because of the huge impact he had on my life. Katie sounds super sweet, and I love the story of her sitting on your lap in the car.
ReplyDeleteThis is the best!! I remember meeting Katie and she was so sweet. I love how you described how Katie was always with you. I thought the car seat description was the cutest and reminded me of my grandmother's old dog who used to do the same thing. Dogs are the absolute best. I got a dog last year and it's really hard to imagine my life without him!!
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