In September 2008, my days as an only child were over. It had been a year since my mother and I had settled in Norman, Oklahoma. During that time, I started a new life at my new school. We’d gone from living in a small apartment with a noisy upstairs neighbor to living in a house located just down the street from where I’d eventually go to high school. Immediately after we’d gotten comfy in our new abode, we realized that something was missing. We needed an extra special something to make this new chapter in our lives even better, a new addition to the family. Well, maybe two!
Dogs have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. They’d been an integral part of my family ever since I was six or seven years old. I grew up with a spoiled dachshund, a Boxer with very frequent flatulence, a controlling German Shepard, and a Rottweiler who really loved getting his butt scratched. My mom and I weren’t about to break tradition. We drove out to a rural area and visited a rescue shelter. Upon arrival we came face to face with a front lawn practically colonized by dozens of dogs of different sizes and breeds. Within minutes, we fell in love with a loud, wiggly and riled up pup that preferred to be held. We named her Riley. We also adopted her sister, a Wishbone lookalike who was more quiet and relaxed. We named her Katie.
The ride back home was nice and quiet. The girls laid shoulder-to-shoulder in the kennel in the backseat. Riley threw up a little bit as we were pulling the car into the garage, but besides that, the trip as a whole went without issue. But as soon as they got settled in their home, the girls began to show their mischievous sides. Riley’s hobby included raiding my dirty clothes basket and dragging my shirts and bras out into the backyard. Katie had a knack of crawling under the beds and picking at the bottom of the mattress. Over time, as the case is with dogs in general, I learned that despite their cuteness, they could destroy. The damage done included: chipping the wood off the legs of the coffee table, stinking up the furniture with hair and saliva, scratching the paint of the walls and tearing apart dog toys that were supposedly indestructible.
As the years came and went, we made plenty of happy memories. We’d experienced relaxing car rides in which Katie would climbs down from the backseat and sleep on the floor boards. There’ve been chaotic trips to the vet where the girls would desperately try to say hello to every living thing in the lobby, but then try to run away as soon as they realized where exactly they were. Katie became a world-class digger, and facilitated many successful break-outs and left our backyard with as many holes as Swiss cheese. Riley grew up to be a major mama’s girl, while Katie grew wider as a result of stealing her sister’s food. The dogs and I often shared beds and kept each other warm during the winter. We huddled together in the laundry room whenever the threat of a tornado was near. I helped take care of them when they were sick, and in return they came to my rescue wherever I felt lonely or upset.
Things took a turn for the worst in the fall of 2014. Katie’s health had never been great. By age five or six she’d gained weight, had a stomach bug and she’d had at least three seizures. That fall she developed a serious inflammation in her joints. Due to the pain, she refused to stand and walk over to get food and water. Mom and I usually had to carry her outside and help her go to the bathroom. The vet had prescribed a type of steroid that numbed the pain and helped her walk again, but it eventually sucked the energy right of out her and left her back at square one. Mom and I couldn’t afford to keep her on multiple medications for the rest of her life, so we made the difficult decision of letting her go. It was one of the hardest days of our lives. In the days following her death, Riley would sniff around the house, catching the scent of her life-long buddy, but not being able to find her.
Some people don’t understand how others can mourn the death of a pet on the same level of mourning a person. I personally don’t understand how those people can think that way. Our pets aren’t just simply companions, they’re family. We grow together, and look to each other for love, comfort and acceptance. Katie and Riley are family. They always were and always will be. Living with my canine sisters have taught me that even when you feel lonely, you’re never truly alone. You’ll always have a source of unconditional love by your side.
