For my older brother's 5th birthday, he picked a puppy from the pound and named him Rex. Rex grew to be a big, happy mutt with a phobia of thunderstorms and a habit of jumping fences, and a fond love of playground slides. He never met a stranger, and he was a very good, loyal dog. I remember one night when it was raining, Rex came into my room and slept next to my bed all night. I woke up the next morning with my hand still on him from petting him until I'd fallen asleep. He died when I was pretty young, not exactly sure when that was, but he had some sort of stroke. We were in the living room watching a movie, and from under the coffee table we heard Rex whimper. That was it. We have a memorial plaque in our backyard with one of his favorite - and many - tennis balls leaning against it.
After a few years of having Rex, the vet told us that if we got another dog that couldn't jump fences, maybe Rex would stop doing it. So, we found a pug named Claudia who had been raised in a crate at a puppy mill for most of her life. She had severe hip dysplasia, which is common in small breeds, but in Claudia's case it was so severe she could hardly walk. My mom renamed Claudia to Tammy, after a character in a book she'd read. Rex and Tammy were fast and inseparable friends; isn't it funny how big dogs and little dogs get along so well? Well, after Rex died, Tammy got really lonely. Her buddy wasn't there anymore. I remember my mom gave her extra-special attention, so as to comfort her. She lived for another few years, but when I was in second grade or so, the most tragic thing happened to poor Tammy. My mom was outside in the yard, faithful Tammy with her (without a leash, because she'd always been so good without it). Tammy saw a cat across the street and ran after it, when all of a sudden a truck rounded the corner and hit our poor, sweet pug, breaking her back. My parents rushed out to get her, picking her up and calling for my brother and me so they could send us to our neighbor's house while they took Tammy to the vet.
Our dogs have never been outside without a leash ever since.
This is, by far, the hardest post I've ever had to write. I am sobbing right now; I haven't thought about our lost pets in so long, and these memories are just now coming back to me, like the time I accidentally fed Rex a mint Milano cookie, or the time he very enthusiastically bounded up to me, pushing me into a mud puddle when I was two.
I had several fish in a row, all dying at one point or another: Geoffrey, Cali, Cherry....
Now, we have five dogs, as you know. Our four pugs are sweet little buddies, all named after animal characters from literature (except for Sassy). Petula got her name from the Molly Moon series, and Bucky and Satchel got their names from the comic strip Get Fuzzy. Bucky, though her name suggests otherwise, is a girl. Our fifth dog, Annie, is border collie. Our Pug Pack (plus an Honorary Pug) is pesky, but we love them anyway. Everyone has their flaws, but the reason why I don't talk about Rex's or Tammy's flaws is because I was a small child when we had them and back then, I thought everyone was perfect.
I hope I never have to write something as hard as this was. Good night, everyone. I love you all.
