This is about the relationship between my dog Skippy and I. From the moment we met, to the time I realized I never got to say goodbye. To my dog skip, who helped me live a normal life of adventure and escapement from my parents divorce.
It was my tenth birthday and my dreams had finally been coming true. My persistence of asking for a companion to feed, pet, cuddle with, walk, talk and roll over had finally been granted. My best friend.
It were as if I had known her all my life, the faint gaze she would peer through her paws whilst covering her snout. It was the look of shame, the look of being turned down so many times... "why would I ever want to take care of that" I could tell had been torn into her ears tormenting her. It was all she knew within the four months that she had been born. Neglect.
Skippy was a three legged prancer who literally loved skipping around. A white huskey, collie, jack russel type of a dog with the personality and temperment of a patient human. These qualities I saw in her the first day I met her. A bond was made that was silent when I cautiously and respectfully let my hand upon her cheek. She, like a lady, was poised and discrete and gave me a kind lick of agreement. We had connected as if we had met on matchmakers, all our emotions lined up and I loved her.
So I chose another dog. He was a huskey, a younger, sparky boy who I thought had a better chance of living a healthy normal life. The caretaker took the dog out not three paw steps and I felt a rush of guilt and betrayal, but mostly loss. I knew with the sunken heartbeat, and the sneaky eyes at my back that the delicate dog in the background had already won a place in my heart. "Stop, stop stop. this is not right I want Skip. Yes Im sure I want Skip!"
We brought her home in a basket that day, shivering as she had clearly never been fingered, proded, petted, poked, and driven so fast in one day. And so all this excitment had to lead nowhere but to the front entranceway finding her way to a perfect spot, doing a half turn and... poop. Right in the center of my living room she had given us all the greatest steaming welcome anyone could have thought of.
Years have gone by since the days I used to hold her tight before my first days of school near the front door sitting on the step. "Wish me luck Skip! I'll miss you, guard the house for all of us Skip, and please dont make me clean up anything when I get home!" I prolonged the look of responsability as if it were laid down on her shoulders now. "You'll always be my number 1 girl Skip, even if I get a girlfriend this year" I winked at her and slowly eased a milkbone into her expecting jaw.
Ten years later I still see all the youth in her unique bounce, although now notice a more pronounced grey in her brown eyed patch. I notice a definition in her ways and habbits which are no mystery now to her favourite spots on the lawn or the games she plays with my dad at the park. I could never have believed it if someone told me I had to eat one meal for the rest of my life, but she did it.
As she ages through the days now I think we've both gotten a little wiser, a little more respectful of eachothers ears, and familiarized eachothers mutual dependance on how happy we are with eachother.
To my dog Skip, who has made me think so much about life and has always brought a tear of joy to my eye since the day she licked my finger with nothing but acceptance.