Author's Note. . .

Alright, this is just a blurb when I was feeling sad about Mickey. . . Who is Mickey? Well if you read you will find out. I wrote this a while ago, so it has actually been a year and some amount of months since he passed. . . Just so you know. Like I said, just an emo blurb that I wrote. I wasn't really going for anything brilliant, it's just kind of like a journal entry type thing. In case you can't tell, it is centered, so that's why some of the indenting looks strange.

It has some mistakes that I was too lazy to edit out, so please excuse those, although there shouldn't be too many.

So please read and enjoy, and review too! Even if it is something little! And maybe check out some of my other stories?

Thanks,

Parakeet Has Issues


A Dog Like Mickey

By: Jessyca L. Goodwin

It has been five months since I said goodbye to Mickey and I still can't believe that he's gone. There are, on occasions, days when I come home and I fully expect to open the door and be jumped on by an enthusiastic dog. It really is amazing to me that I still forget that he's gone; buried in our backyard with nothing but dead flowers and a solar powered light to keep him company. There are times when I have thought about what it would be like to adopt another dog, but I still can't completely grasp the idea as I had when I wanted another hamster, or rabbit. It's not that I don't want to adopt one because I have sworn off all dogs in general; The only thing that is keeping me away from the idea of adopting another dog is that no matter what dog we adopt, he or she shall never be as good a dog as Mickey had. Many people say that their dog was one of a kind and special, and it is probably true. But no other dog could ever be as good as Mickey was. I feel that if we were to adopt again we would hold high expectations for this dog to be kind to everyone, not bark unless there was a real safety concern, make us laugh our heads off, comfort us when we need it, come when called, be able to be trusted off of a leash, only want to play with other animals, be intelligent enough to create a hole in a chain-link fence, and be adorable and handsome and scary at the same time. No, there is no other dog on earth that could posses all of these traits and more. What are the odds that there is another dog out there that is silly enough to throw back his front legs and push himself across the ground on his chin, propelled by only his back legs? The odds are impossible. Mickey was a sweet heart. With adults, with kids, with other animals. He would allow Willow, our six year old cousin, to lean on him and pet his tail and ears and mess with his lips without so much as a sigh. He would let Lily, my parakeet, sit on the his back with only a little protest. And in his final weeks, when his stomach was bloated more then it had ever been, his legs were as thin as a cat's, and you could count each individual vertebra in his spine, he would still, somehow, manage to move room to room just to check on the family.

But, still, the question remains. Even though Mickey was such an amazing companion, why did he only get to live four years? Lucy, our grandparent's 13 year-old, partially-deaf-and-blind, arthritic terrier mutt, outlived Mickey. He was only four years old...And yet, on that Tuesday in October of 2008, we still had to drive him to Estrella Animal Hospital and let them kill him...

Everyday, I am forced to see owners and their dogs. And I can't help but think about what it would be like if Mickey miraculously got better before October 28. Or if he never got sick at all. I can't help but want to scream, "Love them while you can you lucky people! You don't know that they're only going to shatter your heart in the end!" I can't help but smile to myself and think about how much that person will cry and hate themselves for adopting that dog in the first place when their time finally comes. And I can't help but sigh and wish that I was the woman in the sweatpants and Mickey was the prancing chihuahua.

It's been five months and I still can't completely conceive the fact that Mickey is gone. And there will still be days that I come home, fully expecting Mickey to be home as well.