The Stories They Tell
One of my favorite childhood memories was the day I got my dog. It was a warm summer afternoon and it was the most exciting day of my life.
I was four years old and I remember being so excited I could hardly eat my baloney sandwich, let alone drink all my milk.
We visited a lady across town. Her backyard was full of puppies and one of them would be mine.
I remember the barking, the puppy breath and the licks on my face. I can’t remember why I chose him but something told me he was special.
He was the color of a shiny penny so we named him Copper. He loved to jump fences and bark at the wind. He loved to run in circles and play with my toys.
He was the first one I saw when I woke up and the last one I saw when I went to sleep. He was the first to see me when I came home from school and the only one who wanted to play catch when I was alone.
He was there when I laughed or cried or had nothing to do. He loved summer days and cold winter nights. He played in the snow and ran through the rain.
I taught him to jump in mud puddles and roll in the dirt. I’m pretty sure he laughed just like me.
We lived near the train tracks, just up the hill. One day as the train sped by he decided to chase it. My grandfather often asked what he might do if he caught it.
Years later, towards the end of his life, my grandfather brought home a kitten. The kitten was frail and skinny and barely had a meow. But my grandfather promised he would add years to Copper’s life. I had no reason not to believe, my grandfather never lied.
The kitten grew strong and resembled Morris from those old cat commercials some of you may remember, so Grandma named him Morris. Originality was not our thing back in the days.
Morris loved to jump on Copper’s back and pat him on the head. One day, for old time’s sake, I watched as Copper jumped the fence for the first time in years. I have a feeling Morris had a lot to do with that.
My grandfather was right, Morris made Copper young again. He also turned my grandfather into a cat lover. Something we thought impossible.
Copper lived to the ripe old age of 17. I remember the day he died like it was yesterday. It was a rainy summer morning which seemed fitting at the time.
When we came home from the vet we found Morris sitting under an old tree that he and Copper liked the share.
I remember Morris sat there all day and most of the night. I have a feeling he was waiting for Copper to come home.
Our pets write stories the same way we do. We may not see the words on paper but they are there in their minds.
We become their adventures, their heroes, their dramas and their comedies. But the one thing we will never be is their villain.
They teach us how to see the world through their eyes. They add color to our life especially when they lay on our laptops as we try to write our masterpiece.
They write their own stories while helping us write our own and in many ways they do a much better job.
Someday when you come upon an old picture or reflect on an old memory stop for a moment and ask yourself what stories did your pets write?
Did they chase the villain over the fence or did they rescued you from the train? Did they jump in a mud puddle and save you from drowning or did they roll in the dirt because it was there?
Our pets fill our lives and our hearts with laughter, tears and memories. Sometimes they fill our pages with the stories that we write. But one thing is for sure, they live inside us forever.
Happy Friday Everyone!