Vol.9,
No.49, 2006 MY
OWN PUPPY By
Alison Thibault
I’ve
wanted a dog of my own since
1 was seventeen. My mom bought
a miniature poodle the day
before my prom. My mom and
sister named him Caramel
because of his light brown
fur. I didn’t get a
say on his name because I
was at work all day. I was
excited to have a puppy even
though he wasn’t really
mine. I wanted him to sleep
in my room. Mom agreed on
the condition that I sleep
on the floor because my bed
was three feet off the floor,
and she was afraid the puppy
would fall out of bed.
So the
night before my prom, the
puppy and I slept on the
floor. It was cozy, except
for the wee-wee pad inches
above my head, which he actually
used that night. He slept
in my room for a few more
nights, but I caught the
flu and didn’t want
to wake up in the middle
of the night to put the dog
outside or sleep on the floor.
He started sleeping in my
mom and step-dad’s
room, and he wasn’t
my puppy anymore.
I worked a lot while he was young, so I didn’t
get to play with him as much, and he grew fonder
of Mom, my step-dad, and my sister. Then I moved
out in September, and I was without a puppy again.
The next
March, Mom came to visit
and told me about this cute,
pure-bred Pomeranian puppy
at the pet store. She kept
saying that it was sad to
see the poor little fella
all alone for a week. He
had three siblings, but they
were all gone about a week
ago. She stopped in the pet
store everyday to talk to
him. I felt horrible. He
needed to have someone to
play with and to take care
of him. After she told me
that he looked like a blond
fox, I was sold. I called
up the pet store to tell
the owner I was going to
buy the last Pomeranian that
afternoon.
All the
way there, I kept telling
Mom I was going to name my
puppy Wolverine because Wolverine
is my favourite superhero.
But when I got my first look
at him, I kept his name simple:
Fox. I second doubted the
name Fox after I saw his
vicious attitude. He would
have made a great Wolverine.
He was
a very tiny two-pound ball
of fur when I bought him.
Since he was small, I trained
him to use a kitty litter
box. When summer came, he
was an outdoor trained puppy.
I’ve taught him a lot
of tricks since then. He
knows how to shake paws (both
of them), how to sit, back
up (to catch the ball), how
to bring the ball back, to
dance, to hide his eyes,
and his most famous trick:
to speak. He doesn’t
bark. His speak is a wolf’s
howl. Some days, he has a
lot to say, and others, he’s
more quiet. It’s an
impressive trick, which my
sister enjoys to showing
off to everyone who visits.
His favourite
toy is a dirty pink and yellow
foam ball. It’s very
gross to touch, but it keeps
him entertained for hours.
His favourite activity is
going for long walks, which
is funny because I read those
dogs didn’t need much
exercise, and I had to drag
him on his butt the first
time he went on the sidewalk.
Although
he is happier to see Mom
than me, he’s still
my puppy. He’s cutest
when be sticks out his tongue,
which is a sign that he’s
happy. But whether he’s
vicious or sweet, I love
him all the same.