This week my friends and I were talking about my friend Jessi’s first pet. She never had a pet until last year when I told her that we could get a fish and keep it in my dorm room and we could take turns feeding it. We got a male betta fish that we named Wilson. He died in the spring semester and the look on Jessi’s face reminded me of my first real pet. When we brought the topic up this week about how my roommate and I got a new fish this year named Finneas I couldn’t help but to think about my first real pet dog and how much she taught me in the short time I shared with her.

My parents had a dog when we lived in the city but I was too little to remember. We didn’t get another dog until I was ten years old. She was a reverse brindle purebred boxer. Her name was Wicka Kamikaze Magic Toodles. We just called her Magic, Magic Toodles on the rare occasion that she was bad. She was a retired show dog and she knew a lot of tricks. She could sit, shake, and lay down on command. She loved toys and had no trouble playing with small children or dressing up. The best part was that she and I shared a birthday! I thought that was so cool and I always gave her birthday and Christmas presents.

She soon became like a best friend to me I loved coming home to play with her, give her belly rubs, and tell her about my day. When the mean dog on our block got out she protected my sister and I from getting bit. She would never sleep downstairs by herself but would sleep in my parents room unless one of us kids was sick than she wouldn’t leave our side. I learned the hard lesson of responsibility by taking her on walks and helping my mom clean up her messes. No matter the season my little sister, Magic, and I would be outside having a ball. In the summer we would be camping, taking hikes, animal watching, and all other adventures. In the fall we would play in the leaves, go trick or treating, and Magic would stay out with me while I practiced free throws for basketball. In the winter we would catch snowflakes, build snowmen, and go sledding with Magic sitting in the sled sometimes. In the spring we would jump in puddles, look for salamanders, and play until the street lights came on.

Magic was my TV watching buddy, my personal counselor, but more importantly my best friend in the whole world. I told her everything that went on at school from tests to basketball practice. She would sit out in the cold with me while I tried to improve my free throw technique. She was the center of every party and had a wardrobe larger than my little sister. I thought that she and I would be together forever and that I would take her with me when I moved out after college. Then something I didn’t expect happened: she got sick.

She started to limp in the late summer of the year before I turned thirteen. My parents didn’t notice at first but I did and then she got progressively worse. Pretty soon she wasn’t able to go up and down the stairs, jump up into our car, or come up on the couch with me. When she wasn’t able to hold her bladder my parents decided that she had to be put down. This was December of that year, my dad told me the bad news on the way back from an awful basketball practice. I begged my dad to wait until after Christmas so we could celebrate our birthdays together one more time. When I came into the house and saw the pain in her eyes I knew my parents were right and didn’t argue even though it hurt me so bad to think of her dying, it killed me to see her in that pain. The day she died I hugged her so tight before I went to school. I asked my parents what time they were going and when that time came I bent my head down and prayed to god to take care of her now. I never experienced loss before Magic died and her dying taught me that it was okay to cry and grieve over a pet. My birthday that year was bittersweet and I did a toast in her honor. I also decided that when I get older I will get another boxer and name it Magic Junior or MJ in her honor.

What made me angry was that I still don’t know why Magic got sick because we took so good care of her. We didn’t feed her human food, didn’t mistreat her, and loved her unconditionally. That taught me that no matter what sometimes things just don’t go your way. There are still days where I wish she didn’t get sick because then she would be there when I graduated high school and even now I would be counting down the days until winter break to see her again. However when Magic died and was taken away from me, five months later I was given the best little brother in the world and somehow I like to think that Magic was behind it, giving me another thing I always wanted: a little brother.

I’ll always love you Magic Toodles.