Have you ever lost a part of you? Never to see it again?
I had a dog. My dog was a little dachshund named Brady. Brady loved to be mischievous. He would run away, chase animals, and dig holes. On the other hand, he was a nice little puppy that loved to play and cuddle.
The past few years, my parents had mentioned moving. It had always gotten our hopes up because my parents wanted to move somewhere warm, and so did we! About a year and a half ago, my parents started seriously considering moving.
“Hey Brian look, what do you think of this new house?” My mom would say to my dad throughout the days. “Eh, it’s okay” was my dad’s response.
One day, my parents told us they were serious about this but also said; “We don’t know what we will do about the dog.”
With my parents talking about moving, my brothers and I did not care much about the bad news. We were so ecstatic about moving because we saw the pictures of the house and fell in love.
In later weeks, about a year ago from January, it was serious. The sign went up in my front yard to sell my house. My family went through all our stuff and got ready to start packing. During the next couple months, everything got packed up and eventually moved in during April vacation. During one of these weeks, I remembered the bad news, and wondered why it was bad. I asked about the bad news many times but only received answers that hinted at the real answer.
The week of April vacation, I was going to stay with my grandparents in Maine. My dog was going to go to a ‘doggy daycare’. Brady had gone there before when we went away on vacation, but he always came home after.
This was a day I would remember. I woke up and got myself ready. I finished packing some small things and packed for Maine. My mom asked “are you ready to go drop Brady off?” I replied with “yeah!” and we left. Before when I went with her, it only took a few minutes to drop him off, but this time she told me to wait in the car. I waited and remember thinking “why is this taking so long? What is going on? What is…?” I eventually just went on my phone and tried to not think much of it. After about 10-15 minutes, my mom came out and we left to bring me to Maine. I came back from Maine, and straight to my new house. When I got there, I realized Brady wasn’t there and figured we were going to get him a different day because things were still getting moved in.
About two weeks after everything is moved in, there is still no Brady. I was starting to become aggravated and firmly asked about the dog.
“Where is Brady? Please do not sugarcoat your answer.” I asked my parents “Brady had to be given away.” my parents said.
My brothers and I cried and did not understand. We blamed ourselves, we tried to make a plan for how we could protect him. We did everything we could to try and help us feel better, but nothing helped the fact that a part of us was taken away.
We let them explain why they gave Brady. It was under the circumstances of the new house. Brady was a small dog, and loved to run away. The house I now live at is surrounded by woods. There are a variety of different animals in the woods. Also, people who live in the area have large dogs that are aggressive. With all of these reasons, and possible situations they described, I understood.
I, for once in this situation, understood where my parents were coming from. I realized why they did what they did and also that they were giving him to a nice old lady. She has another dog, so he now has a playmate which is good because he always loved to play. Eventually, I forgave them. I learned that I should have a better understanding of a situation before I act on it in a negative way.