I’ve always had pets in my life. Even from my first moments of life, I had 2 dogs, Kilija and Cheyenne. Both of them passed before I could understand what death meant. The worst part about having pets is when they have to leave us. In 2009 I came home from school to find that my dad had gone and got a new dog, a hunting dog. Since Stephanie Meyers’ Twilight was so popular, we named her accordingly: Bella.
It was so exciting to have a dog in the house again. After Kilija died it was lonely and quiet. She was different than our other dogs, in both breed and personality. We had always gotten labs up until Bella; she was a German Shorthaired Pointer. They are good hunting dogs and my dad and I tried to train her to retrieve birds. She always seemed excited to learn; always jumping at the opportunity to go out and run around in the yard, but training her was the hardest thing to do. Even up until last year she would run off the second her collar slipped.
We always thought it was because she didn’t like us. Bella was mine and my dad’s dog through and through. My mom didn’t like that she had white hair that would cover all of her black clothes. When my parents divorced my mom tried to make my dad take her, but his apartment didn’t allow dogs (even though his brother owned the apartment building). My mom never wanted another dog; she’d say each time Bella stole food off the counter or chewed up a sock.
She was my dog though, and I loved her more than anything. I wanted to give her such a better life than she had, but I was selfish. I wanted to keep her because I loved her. It wasn’t until last Thanksgiving that I thought I wouldn’t get to see her. I came home over break to find that she had a tumor on her eyelid. She had always had skin growths that the vet had continued to check but were safe so my mom never thought to take her to the vet. I came back for Christmas and it had doubled in size. I finally persuaded my mom to take her to the vet and they removed it.
At this point, I was at school and in the middle of student teaching and I was wrecked when I got a call saying it had grown back. It had only been 3 weeks. Bella had another appointment that next week and we would find out what to do. That day was April 6th. I was driving home from school and my mom sent me a text, she said to be prepared for a call later, the inevitable was coming. It came at 5 pm, my mom called and said that I had a choice, they would put her down then, or they could wait until I got home.
At that moment I wished I could drive home but I couldn’t drive and cry at the same time. I told my mom that it would be easier if they just did it then because she wouldn’t have to suffer as much. At that moment I realized that I would never get to see her again. She would never get to meet me at the door, I’d never get to share my ham sandwiches with her again, and the last time I saw her I wish I would’ve hugged her a little longer. I went home that weekend and I wanted to avoid my house like the plague. I wanted to see my mom though, so I walked into the house and for the first time I didn’t get greeted by my best friend. The house was so quiet and my best friend was gone.