My First Puppy

When I got my first puppy we named him Bear. Bear wasn't any ordinary dog he was a little shit. Bear was a rottweiler, he was the runt of the litter and wasn't like the others. He died a while ago but I will always remember him. He wasn't just a dog to my family he was more. Mom always said he was another child but takes his turds outside. He always got in the same amount of trouble as the kids. To me Bear was even more then a part of family, he was my other half basically. Wherever I was there he was trailing me and ready to play. So I didn't know what to post about so I wrote this.

Happiness with a Price

It was a summer, but not any ordinary summer this summer was different for an important reason. My dog had just recently passed away. Like any other child I was sad and wanted a new dog. It didn’t matter to me so much as if the dog was a puppy or was full grown. I just wanted a dog that I could play with and take for walks. Then came the day when we adopted a Rottweiler puppy named Bear.

It was a warm sunny day when my Dad, Mom, Dom, my brother, and I pulled into the owners of the Rottweiler puppy’s house in our green Dodge minivan. I remember the house as if it was mine because I was thrilled with the thought of getting a dog and because it was right next to Dunkin Donuts. The house at the time seemed huge to me. It was a whitish gray color with green shutters on the windows. The house seemed old, the paint started to chip and it had spider webs hanging from the gutters. I was very intrigued with this house also because Thor, the daddy dog, was outside and he was massive. He was also a Rottweiler and he seemed ferocious. As I inched closer and closer, he started to wag his tail with joy. He slobbered all over me. After we passed Thor we had to enter the house to see the puppies.

As we walked up the old wooden porch steps they squeaked so loud that all of Bucksport could have heard it. My dad was a big man at that time, he was still lifting and exercising, unlike now. I remember him walking up and knocking on these great big French doors and this little man opened up the door. It was my dad’s friend Dale. Dale was a toothpick compared to Dad but they were the same height, not the same width. As they greeted and shook hands, Dale spoke.  “He said god damn how ya doing you son of a b*tch.” Dad answered back “better then you, you old goat”. Dale had this deep voice that sounded like a Hells Angel biker with the mustache to match.

Dale took us to see the puppies in the cellar where they were drying after their bath. Dale and his wife had a little fenced in area where the eight puppies ran and played. We had first choice of the puppies, and like any other child I wanted to pick out the puppy, but my older brother Dom had to choose since I picked out the name. Dom, being the person he was, decided he wanted the smallest one that was sitting in the corner, not interacting with the others. Dad paid Dale and we were on our way home with our new puppy, Bear. Little did we know that the night ahead of us was going to be a living hell.

When we arrived at the house Bear seemed hesitant to run in the house and play. He hid in our closet for the longest time peeking his big brown and black head out whenever he heard a toy squeak or a ball drop. Dom and I had to bribe him out by leaving a little doggie trail until we snatched him up and took him away from the closet. Still, he ran back and hid. Sure enough we kept laying treats out and he would sneak out when weren’t paying attention, steal the treats and waddle back in.  Then came the worst night in the history of Bear.

We went to bed at our usual time, Bear was still in the closet. It was around one o ’clock when we started to heard this noise. The noise was a high pitched sound that could have made your ears bleed. I came downstairs weary and petrified. I obviously assumed it was a monster, I was only eight years old. I’m pretty sure any eight year old child would be just afraid as I was. As I entered the living room I peered around the corner real slowly. You know when you watch Scooby and you see the gang peer their heads right around the corner? That’s what I looked like, except I was alone, and shaking. I saw nothing so I advanced. I walked so quietly and so slowly that I looked like a tortoise. I came upon the kitchen. Again I peered around the corner this time more hesitantly. I didn’t like the kitchen as much as the living room because the kitchen had a big old picture window that I could see into the backyard.  The backyard was pitch black and I was scared to the point where I wanted to cry. As I gained all my courage in my small young body. I peered around the corner, arms and legs trembling, there was nothing, no one, no monster. I looked in our closet and you wouldn’t believe what I saw. Bear my dang dog sitting in the closet, whimpering and crying.

Me, being me, ran back upstairs, grabbed my pillow and blanket, and slept in the closet with bear. The rest of night Bear didn’t make a peep or a sound, we just slept together in the closet. This is when Bear and I became best friends together.         (That's my Grampie, Bear, and I)