I wasn't sure about the title so if anyone has any suggestions that would be great.
Sorry it's a little long :\
My life started out well enough, or at least I think so. It was warm and quiet, and only smelled of good things. There was always enough to eat, thanks to Mother, and my brothers and sisters and I never wanted for anything. I remember the joy of getting up and walking around for the first time and play-wrestling with Jo and Lolly and all the others…It was springtime and if we fell asleep in the grass the butterflies would land on our noses and tickle us to wake us up. And the birds would fly from tree to tree and taunt us. Sometimes Mother barked at them, but she warned us against it. Barking is a bad habit, she always said. And I always remembered.
That was a good time.
I don’t remember all of it, since it was so long ago. Most of it is more of a memory of a feeling, a pool of goodness and comfort that I can reach back into at times like these, when things aren’t all that good, and still manage to get through in one piece. But something happens to some of us so we can’t get through in one piece, and those dogs completely lose themselves to chaos, and I wonder if they don’t have any good memories to dip back into to save themselves. While the others tease and taunt and make fun of those dogs, I can only feel pity. I pull myself away from the sadness of a dog who hasn’t had any love or comfort in his life, and the guilt that my happiness could have been his and we might both still be in one piece at the end. But don’t misunderstand; I’m grateful for the life that I’ve lived, and all the good and kindness I’ve experienced.
Now, as it’s coming to an end, I can only think of the bad, and the pain. I discovered loss as the leaves began to change that fall. My brothers and sisters were kept in the living room, but I was taken to our basement room with Mother. I paced anxiously and sat by the door, but Mother just lay in the corner, curled up in the place where our nest had been. She told me that I wouldn’t see my brothers and sisters again, but I didn’t believe her. I waited at the door until our person came down to get us, and followed him upstairs as quickly as I could, but there were no dogs. My siblings were gone. I asked Mother what happened to them. She didn’t know.
The humans started fighting when the snow was on the ground. They put up a tree inside the house and decorated it with strings and objects hanging on strings. It was all strange to me, but Mother told me the humans enjoyed the tree very much so I was careful not to damage it in my antics. I was so full of energy then that I would race around the house until one of the humans opened the door for me, then I would run around outside until I couldn’t run anymore. It wasn’t exactly fun, but exhilarating at least. I hadn’t had fun since my brothers and sisters had gone away.
The humans’ fighting didn’t seem to have anything to do with me, though. They yelled at me for running in the house before, but now they seemed preoccupied with the tree. They stood around it and made noises at each other, then the noises got louder until one of them left and the other got something in her eyes that made them water. After one of these episodes, Mother told me to be sure not to take any of the boxes that the humans put under the tree. They were very precious to the humans and there were fewer than normal that year.
When the snow started to melt and the plants were green again, the humans started to feed us less and less, eventually only a few kernels of dog food per day. One of the humans started to be home all day long, and I was glad to finally have a playmate, but he never seemed much in the mood for playing. Mother was getting skinny because she wasn’t eating enough, and I worried about her. She told me that we would leave together after it got cold again. After winter, it got warm, then cold again, then stayed warm, so if we waited we wouldn’t have to be outside when it got cold again. I hoped Mother would last until then.
I was glad that the second winter came fast, and we left before Mother got any skinnier. It was late at night, and Mother had to struggle with the latch on the gate until it popped open. She squeezed through a space half the size of the one I needed, but I made it through behind her, just barely, and we were off like two shadows into the night…
I don’t want to think about it now. That was a bad time, and I’ve blocked out the worst parts, so it only comes to me in bits and pieces…We lived in the city off of food we found in trashcans and dumpsters. Mother showed me how to catch groundhogs and rabbits, but she was too weak to do it herself. She told me all of the dangers of the city, the cars, the dog catchers, the rats with poison in their teeth…I wouldn’t have survived without her.
One morning I woke up and she just wasn’t there, and I was on my own.
I wandered around for a time after that, avoiding the dangers and finding all the food I could. I was thin, though, barely more that a skeleton. It was getting colder and the food was getting scarcer. Before she disappeared, Mother told me to watch the leaves on the trees. When they started to fall and become brittle under my paws when I walked on them, we would need to find a safe place to stay for the winter. Since Mother was gone, I had to find a place on my own.
I walked until the rock-hard dirt disappeared from the ground and there was only grass. After living in the city for the warm time, I knew how dangerous it was, and how unfriendly the people were, and I needed people to take care of me. I couldn’t live with the fleas and ticks biting at me and the mites crawling in my ears. No matter how much I ate, I couldn’t get any fatter. In the city, the people weren’t your friends. They chased you away from your food and sped by in cars that could kill you. Dog catchers prowled the streets to catch any dog too old or sick to run away. There was no chance of finding refuge in the city. Anywhere would be better than there.
After walking until I felt I would drop if I had to take even one more step, I found a warm barn filled with big animals that I learned were horses, and I met another dog who told me his people would take me in. I was exhausted and was ready to accept almost anywhere to stay, even if for only that night, and I felt that I was lucky to find somewhere as warm and as dry as the barn. I slept in the hay that night, feeling safe at last.
When I met the people, they were very kind. They fed me dog food, a treat that I hadn’t tasted since Mother and I ran away from home. The woman fussed over me and took me down to a river where she put sweet-smelling bubbles all over me and drenched me with river water. I was patient with her, since she seemed very frail, and she was quiet and gentle.
I got to know Barn Dog, and we became close friends. We ran in the woods together and he showed me secret trails to get to meadows where I could catch rabbits and groundhogs. I still missed Mother desperately, but I felt the pain ease a bit when I was with my newfound friend.
I spent the cold season with Barn Dog and his family, and it was a happy time in my young life. I ran in the snow and played with my friend and never had to worry about not having enough to eat. I still had the mites in my ears, and sometimes I could hear them moving around, but I was gaining weight and my fleas were all but gone. As far as I was concerned, life was good.
I had my first litter of puppies with Barn Dog that spring.
There were five little puppies all mewling and drinking milk from me. They were warm bundles of life cuddled up to me, trusting me to protect them. There were three dark ones, a lighter one, and one that was pure white, like Mother. I loved that little pup with all my heart. When I nuzzled it with my nose to keep it tucked in with its siblings, it would squeak and rub its face against me like it could understand that I was its mother. Already, even though they were too tiny to even open their eyes, I knew I would always love that one best.
The humans found my puppies when they were only three days old. They were curled up against me, the white pup twitching in his sleep next to the light pup, the three brown ones curled up together. The humans didn’t spend much time looking at them and fussing over them, as I’d expected them to, but I wasn’t worried. But the next day, the man came and threw my pups into a sack. I already could recognize the little white pup’s mewling, and I could hear him from inside the bag, crying for me. I growled at the man as I’d never growled at anyone or anything before. I snapped at him and did everything I could to get my pups back, but my best wasn’t good enough.
Later that day, Barn Dog came to me and told me that the man drowned my puppies in the river.
I could never trust those people again. They were good to me, but not good enough. I ate their food and slept in their barn, but I could never forgive them for what they did to my babies, to my white pup. My perfect little white pup, who looked just like my mother, talking to me and nuzzling against my nose and loving unconditionally as only a baby can do. It was going to grow up to be kind and understanding, like Mother, and it would love me like I loved my mother, and I would love it back. I already loved it back. It was so innocent and so sweet and so perfect and they took it away from me. They took my babies away from me!
That cycle of warm and cold seasons was one of the times that I took myself back to the time when I was a puppy and remembered what it was like to be together with Mother and my brothers and sisters at home. That puddle of good feelings kept me sane, and kept me going until the next puppy season.
I wasn’t going to let another litter of babies be murdered, so as it got warmer and I could feel babies growing inside of me, I bid farewell to Barn Dog and the life that I once thought was perfect. I followed one of Barn Dog’s paths to my favorite meadow, one that broke out into thousands of flowers in the warm season. It was there, where I had rabbits and groundhogs to eat and the river to drink from, that I had my pups.
There was no white pup in that litter. That made me very angry and frustrated and upset. I almost abandoned my pups because I was so angry. I had a perfect little pup that I loved and cherished with all my heart, a whole litter of perfect puppies, and they were all slain. And now that I had a brand new litter that was going to survive, I wouldn’t have another chance to have my perfect, special pup.
It was then that I mourned my white pup. I took care of my four new pups, but I mourned my dead babies. I was sad when they were killed, but I thought I would get a second chance at all of them, including my white pup. But that’s not how life works, I realize now, and I realized then. So I reached back to my puppyhood to sustain me, and help me get over my sadness, but I cared for my new pups, and soon came to love them as well.
That was one of the best times of my life, after I stopped mourning the death of my first litter. I had four energetic babies, Lila, Cally, Sheila, and Mika. They raced around in the meadow and I taught them to catch prey to eat, but warned them not to catch too much or there wouldn’t be enough food for the next year. We played in the tall grass, and then the leaves as they started to fall, and the snow in the winter time. Butterflies flew about us as if they wanted to capture some of our joy, and the weather was never bad, as if nature itself wanted us to be happy. And we were happy. I was truly happy, for the first time in a long time. It was like I was reliving the time I had with my brothers and sisters through my puppies.
But, as always seems to happen with good times, those days went by too quickly. Two cycles of seasons had passed, and it was time for me to say good-bye to my puppies. They weren’t puppies then, though, they were full-grown dogs and I knew they could take care of themselves. I was sad to leave them, but also had a kind of joy that I brought such beautiful life into the world.
I wandered back into the city, filled with an irresistible desire to find my own mother. I knew it was irrational to look for her, as I had every reason to believe she was long gone, but I went back to the same place where she disappeared. I still remembered after all that time.
Looking back, I know it was no surprise that I was caught by a dog catcher. I could have easily assumed that Mother was taken by a dog catcher, which explained her sudden disappearance, and I could have also assumed that since a dog was caught there, the area must have been on a dog catcher’s route. That is the only act that I’m truly angry at myself for. I knew how dog catchers worked, I should have known how to avoid that one. Just one stupid decision landed me in the pound.
I was thrown in a concrete pen with a barred door. I felt the walls closing in on me, squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe. I knew I shouldn’t bark, but I couldn’t help but let out a small yelp. I don’t know how long I was in there. I retreated back into my mind, into my happy memories, and hoped it would all go away.
I can’t remember the next things that happened. I was told that I was taken out of the cage and taken to a place the other animals called the Chopper. All I know is that I woke up in a much nicer, bigger cage with a cut on my belly that somehow changed me so I couldn’t have babies. That saddened me, but I was glad that I had at least had four babies. Some dogs never get to have babies.
I saw my mother a few days later when I was put in an outdoor cage. It was like a fenced yard, but covered with a roof. There were a few toys and a big doghouse to lie in, but there was a big dog in there who wouldn’t let anyone near. He was one of the dogs who went crazy in the pound. I was frightened then, but I feel pity for him now. No dog should ever have to suffer that much.
I didn’t recognize Mother when I first saw her. She looked fatter than I’d ever seen her, and her fur was thicker and dirtier than I’d ever seen it. But when I got close enough, I could smell her warm, safe smell and it brought on a flood of memories.
Our reunion was bittersweet. I was delighted to be able to tell her about my puppies, and how they were all grown up, and all the funny and happy stories I had about them. But she told me she was dying. She could feel it in her chest, an unnatural pressure that she knew was going to end her life. I was horrified, but she tried to make me understand what I know now, but couldn’t accept then. Life is a cycle, there has to be death to be life. My puppies were the new and wonderful life, but for them to live, four other dogs had to die. I refused to believe what she told me until I saw her withering away with my own eyes.
Her dying wish was for me to find a home. She told me people sometimes came to the pound to take dogs home with them, and she heard that those dogs had good lives after they went to new homes. She told me I was young, and I deserved to go to live with a nice family to live in happiness for the rest of my life.
The people came to take her away the next day. I felt a sadness that I had never felt before. It covered me like a thick blanket and made it hard to move and even think. I couldn’t even reach back to the good memories because she was in all of them, and thinking about her only made me sadder. I never thought about my mother dying before that. It seemed to me that she would live forever. Her death shocked me and made my own death seem more real to me, which was terrifying.
As it turned out, Mother got her wish. I went to live with a nice family with a young child. She loved me, and we played all the time and she taught me tricks. In the summer time, we swam together in an unusual pond with sides that were too straight and water that was too clean and smelled harsh, like chemicals. Some days, we went for walks in the woods and I got a taste of what my life was, and could have been. When it got very hot out, my family and I all got into the car and went to a strange and fantastic place where the people did nothing but spend all day lying on blankets on strange dirt that bordered salty water. The young child spent her time playing in the dirt, and I was left to play in the water.
In the cooler seasons, I was home alone for most of the day, and I became friends with a cat that lived with the family. He told me stories that he said were passed down by cats from generation to generation. The stories were about a place far away across the salty water where there was no normal dirt, only the strange dirt. And the people built huge buildings by rolling stones into place, and they created huge sculptures in honor of cats! I found all of that a bit hard to believe, but his stories were at least entertaining.
I was happy with the life I finally found. The family took good care of me, too. I never had ticks, fleas, or ear mites when I lived with them, and my coat was always shiny and healthy. I always got enough to eat, plus lots of dog treats and toys to play with. I still missed all of those who I had lost, but I had my three people and a cat to keep me company. I was content for many, many cycles of the seasons.
But for the past few seasons I’ve been getting a pain in my chest, and I know now that it’s time for me to go. I’m at the shiny place with my people, the woman, the man, and their daughter. They all must have something in their eyes, because their eyes are all watering. And they’re all so sad. I’m not sad. I’m ready to leave. I can see Mother and my brothers and sisters like they’re standing right here in front of me, and I can see my puppies running and playing in the meadow, and I can see my white pup waiting for me…I’ll be with them soon. I’ll see Mother again, and she’ll praise me for my beautiful litter of puppies who are all up there with her, waiting for me.
There’s the man with the shot, now. My eyes are closed, but my people are all close to me with their arms around me, and they’re all so sad. The only sorrow I have is for them. But now I’m drifting away, their touch and sound and smell is all fading away…and now there’s only peace. No, wait, what’s that? A light in the distance? No…it’s my little white pup coming to meet me…
And due to the simple style, you could just read it through in a flow without having to stop because you have to figure out what the author actually means to say… Another thing I liked about it was that you didn’t make it too melodramatic. You told us how the dog was sad about losing her siblings and pups and her mother, but you kept your down-to-earth style and did not give the animal all too human feelings.