I cannot wait until I can afford to have a dog again. I miss having one so much.
We used to show dogs all the time when I was between the ages of seven and ten. We took mainly Chinese Cresteds–the ugly hairless variety. My
dog though was Otto, the German Shepherd mix. I don’t know what he was mixed with, aside from sheer cowardice. That lovable bastard broke a lot of glass trying to escape the house to find us when we were gone too long. Putting him in a crate was always heartbreaking for me.
I miss that guy. I remember how he died, but I can’t bring to mind the actual occurrence of saying goodbye and whatnot. His stomach twisted or something. It was a weird death.
My first showing involved my little partner scooting across the floor in some strange army crawl. She apparently wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. She only did it sometimes, but when she did, there was no stopping her. Must have been anxiety or something.
Anyway, somehow I won second place in that showing. I got my first trophy and everything. I felt pretty accomplished about it, until my mom’s friend walked beside us after the show, carrying an actual garbage bag full of identical rewards. The irony escaped me at the time, but hey. I wanted to feel like I had done something cool. I think I asked for some of hers. Maybe I didn’t really understand the concept of victory just yet.
My trophy read “2nd Place Winner’s Bitch”. When I had been filled in on “bitch”s second, less offensive meaning, I stopped thinking of it as a bad word in that context. So I brought the trophy to show-and-tell one day, and let me just say…If you’re in first grade, and you need to figure out who the asshole tattle-tails are, bring something with “bitch” written on it, but in this doggy context so you don’t really get in trouble. That day truly separated who I could and could not trust for the remainder of my time at that school. I’ll always remember, Katherine. Always.
I’m kidding. I have no idea what her name was.
Maybe she felt it was her duty as an honorable citizen of the USA. Perhaps she had a grudge against me for some unknown reason. All I knew at the time was that new emotion. If she had tattled and I had actually gotten in trouble, I would have been simply pissed off, like any reasonable tiny human being.
The fact of the matter is, I didn’t get in trouble, and that led my mind to think of the implications of her actions, rather than be truly affected by them. “She did that to get me in trouble, even though she knows getting in trouble sucks!”
I just went to put my laundry in the dryer, and her dog was super excited to see me.
He must have known I was writing this. I got to pet him for a second. The owner wasn’t like, super keen about it, but like…he jumped up on me. I put him down and said “hey” in an almost-alpha manner. That should count for something. Maybe. Probably not.
Whatever. I got to pet a dog today. My life is great.