A girl’s best friend
As children, we typically dream about one of two things: getting a younger sibling or getting a puppy. As the youngest of three kids, I dreamed about having a younger sibling who would follow me around, play with me whenever I wanted and overall, just be my best friend. Sadly, my parents put an end to that dream pretty darn quickly, as they were adamant that there would be no more kids. So, when I heard the words “We are getting a puppy!” my 4-year-old ears heard “You are going to be a big sister!”
Excitement rushed from the top of my head to the tip of my toes as we loaded into our blue minivan to make the two-hour trek to the breeder’s house. I, being a small child, had no concept of time, so this car journey felt as if it was never ending. Once our van had parked, and I was unbuckled, a mad dash ensued to the barn where the puppies were being held. It was time to choose our newest family member, but more importantly my newest best friend.
Huddles of fluffy black and white border collie puppies with tiny, white-tipped tails ran around me; the cuteness was almost too much to handle. Little yips of excited puppies echoed throughout the barn as the smell of shredded pine chips wafted up my nose. As everyone else was meeting the various other puppies, only one caught my eye.
Sitting in the corner was a puppy bigger than the rest. His unique half white and half black face and his little pink nose separated him from the sea of others. When I looked into his big brown, worried eyes, I knew instantly that him and I were going to have a bond like no other.
His name was Striker.
Striker was a unique dog to say the least. Although he grew to be close to 60-pounds, he was absolutely terrified of everything. Toys that squeaked? Forget about it! They were ticking time bombs that could go off at any minute. Household cleaning tools like a broom were his mortal enemies, sent to destroy him with one swift fall to the ground. Don’t even mention fireworks; they were a nightmare come alive to him. It was my duty as an older sister to protect him and be with him every step of the way, just like I knew he would do for me.
We were inseparable.
As a kid, I would strap on some shoes and grab his favourite tennis ball — the only toy he actually liked — and we would play fetch until the streetlights came on. Every one of my brothers’ soccer games I had to go to, Striker came along to keep me company. As we all grew older and started travelling more for sports, he was sitting right beside me in the car, resting his slowly greying face on my lap.
The once playful time we spent together turned to me talking to him about my teenage problems knowing full well he couldn’t answer, but I knew he was listening. Each anxiety attack was made better when he looked at me with his still youthful brown eyes and licked away my tears making me instantly smile. He was there for every milestone, every first day of school, and all of my hard days.
Years continued to pass, Striker began to develop some health issues that required some extra care and medication, but it was nothing too serious. At first, I didn’t notice much of a difference — he was his same old sassy self. But as the days passed, his excitement to go play fetch decreased. His ability to run to the fridge as we opened the cheese drawer was no longer a possibility. Seeing my lifelong best friend living a life full of pain and discomfort made my heart ache.
Making the family decision to have Striker put down was not an easy one. Weeks of back and forth ensued until we finally agreed to book the vet appointment. I remember when the appointment was confirmed, I felt like all the brood drained from my body. I wasn’t ready to let go of someone who played such a huge part in my life. What was I going to do without him? Every memory I have growing up, Striker was there. Now I was going to have to make new ones without him, which didn’t seem right. My whole world seemed to implode.
The days following his death were extremely hard. The house echoed with silence. Each morning I would walk downstairs rubbing my burning bloodshot eyes expecting to see Striker looking back at me, when in reality all that was looking back at me was a beige, empty wall. I had never experienced such strong emotions without him.
Although it was challenging to move on from this loss, I didn’t have a choice. Now, more than three years later, I still miss my sassy neurotic scaredy-cat of a dog, but I know he is with me every step of the way.
The bond you create with your childhood dog is one of the strongest bonds you will have throughout your youth. It teaches you what unconditional love and support feels like because no matter what life throws at you, that dog will be by your side until the end.
