A young student wrote the following story. I was impressed by this student's touching tribute to her pet. I think you will agree.
By:
Rachael Moore
2/20/12
Beloved Companion
My grandmother was wearing her fashionable
red lipstick; she arrived at my house at around ten one Saturday morning. Every
month she took my ten year old brother Taylor and me to Toys R Us. We’d spend
over an hour walking down the enormous aisles looking at Barbie’s, Pokémon
cards, jump ropes, and puzzles until we made our final decision of our monthly
selection. The aisles always seemed so big, almost like skyscrapers filled with
my favorite characters. I loved going to the toy store because of the bouncy,
peppy music and the bright colors. This
specific trip to the store was special because it was my birthday and I was
turning six. Usually my grandmother only let us pick one item, but because it
was my birthday that month I got to pick two treasures. After spending a little
over an hour in the store, I finally decided on two Polly Pocket toys to add to
my collection at home. Even though I would spend over an hour looking around, I
always picked Polly Pockets. My brother picked a Pokémon video game that he
could play on the purple Gameboy he had permanently attached to his hand.
Satisfied with our purchases, we
hopped back into my grandmother’s red Chevy and headed back to my house. As I
sat in the backseat listening to the inevitable country music and watching my
gram’s brown hair blow in the breeze, I felt that today couldn’t get any
better. I was so eager to get home, eat red velvet cake and confetti cake ice
cream with my family, and play with my new toys.
As soon as we pulled into the gravel
driveway I quickly got out and ran up the concrete steps. Before I could get in
the door my grandmother said, “Don’t go in yet Rachael; wait for us.” I didn’t
understand why I had to wait, but I stood on the front porch impatiently. My
brother and grandmother were like dogs that stopped and sniff everything on a
walk. As they plodded up the steps, I
opened the old yellow front door. Walking into my living room, I saw a small
stuffed dog wearing a red handkerchief. At first, I didn’t recognize the
stuffed animal, so I just assumed it was my brother’s, but when the stuffed
animal started to move, I then realized what it was. I squealed with excitement
and ran over to the black and white speckled animal. Looking pleased, my
parents said, “Happy Birthday” in unison.
Sitting on the hardwood floor, I
stoked my new companion’s thick coat and let her dull teeth bite my hand. She was almost as small as my dad’s shoe; she
looked so fragile. After rambling off a list of names like Brittney, Cocoa, and
Spot, my brother and I finally decided on Freckles.
Throughout the years Freckles and I
have taken numerous long walks to the pond down the road. She jumps up and down
at the first sight of her green leash. As soon as we arrive at our destination,
she chases every bird she sees. In the winter when the fireplace is ablaze and
the big snowflakes are falling, I’ll come downstairs to see Freckles and Tom,
my cat, cuddled up by the fireplace.
A few years after we got Freckles, we
realized she had a medical problem. One time, my mom was taking a photograph of
my brother and me by the fireplace. It was a dark winter night, so she needed
to use the flash. When my mother finally captured a picture that she thought
was suitable, we noticed Freckles in the corner of the room shaking uncontrollably
and not able to walk. The veterinarian later told us that the bright light of
the flash caused her to have seizures; since then we haven’t used the flash
setting in the house.
One
evening this year, after basketball practice, I came home to my mom searching
the yard for Freckles. Unable to find her, my mom and I drove up and down the
streets yelling out her name. Defeated, we decided to go home. My mom said,
“Don’t worry Rach, she’ll show up.” As I pulled back into the driveway, we saw
her crossing the street. It was a hazy winter day and it was hard to see. As I
put my car into park, I saw a large brown Ford truck barreling down the road. I
screamed because the truck wasn’t slowing down. At the last possible second the
driver slammed on the brakes; you could smell the burnt rubber from the tires.
Shaking, I ran to Freckles, scooped her up in my arms, and carried her inside
as the careless driver sped away.
Over half of my life has been spent
with Freckles. She isn’t as rambunctious as she once was; she has trouble
getting up and down the stairs and she’s nearly deaf. Although she’s getting
older, she still waits for me by the door when I’m gone and makes the difficult
journey up the steps just to sleep with me. Looking back on it now, I am so
grateful that I have been blessed with such a great companion. Although some may say she is just a dog, she
has been a part of many memorable experiences for me.
\
