Old visitors have been drifting back lately. Some are back at work, some back at school, and this blog finally has people stopping by again. I was absurdly happy about it.
Then this afternoon my uncle came over for a New Year visit, and my mom gave him our three puppies. Just like that. No one asked me. Those poor little things are now far from home, living their so-called overseas life. I miss them already.
The smallest one was the best. If you chased it, it wouldn’t run—it would just flop onto the ground. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it was playing dead. That meant I could torment it to my heart’s content: pull its legs, tickle it, give it a good vigorous shake. It also knew how to sit and stand, which I loved.
Once the three puppies were carried off, only two big dogs were left. Believe me, we did not want that many dogs. The big ones are for guarding the house and, well, breeding. As for the breeding part, I’m not even sure which generation of puppies these were. Dogs grow up so fast.
One of the big dogs is pretty funny—and a huge coward. The moment it hears a loud bang, it zips over to your side. I remember one New Year’s night when lots of people were setting off fireworks. I was sitting at the table using the computer, and when I happened to look down, there was the scared dog under the table, right next to my legs. I had no words. My mom said it had been hit by a car when it was young, which is probably why it’s so frightened.
My dogs have not had much luck, honestly. Two incidents from middle school stuck with me. One was a small dog. That night the wind was howling and thunder was crashing, and we were all tucked in bed. The next morning, on my way to school, I found it wedged in the iron gate, frozen to death. I only remember kicking it and feeling how stiff it was. I was devastated.
The other dog was worse off. It loved following me. One bright, cloudless, crisp autumn morning, I happily rode my bike to school and found that loyal little thing trailing behind me. I shooed it back home. After a lot of effort I got it to turn around, and I thought everything was fine. That evening my mom told me the dog had been run over by a car. No justice.
Anyway, raising puppies has been a tragic business for me. I’ll stop there. One song I listened to all day: Kenny Rogers’s “Lady.” Give it a listen.