Memoir

          My parents left early in the morning for New Jersey to pick up my dog! I usually sleep in on weekends, but my mom promised to be home with her by eight, so I woke right up. Shirley was the sweetest, cutest, little puppy I had ever seen. Her fur was as soft as velvet, and she was tiny enough for me to hold her in one hand. I couldn’t believe she was mine. She was so affectionate, something I had never seen in a pet, after growing up with two cats for six years. It was crazy, she was so loyal, she followed me around the house, and whenever I walked in the house she was there ready to welcome me in.

          Four days after getting Shirley, I came home from school and Shirley didn’t greet me at the door by jumping up on me, and licking my face. In fact she didn’t greet me at all.
          “Where is Shirley?” I asked my mom trying not to sound as panicked as I felt. “She’s at the vet,” my mom seemed anxious.
          “Will she be home tonight?” I trembled.
          “No,” my mom started to cry.
          Seeing your parents cry is one of the most strangely awful things to encounter, but when you’re feeling the same way, it’s worse, because there isn’t anyone to comfort you.

          “I took her to the vet, because she had no energy and was throwing up, there was blood in it, and she smelled really weird.” My mom’s cry turned into a sob.
          “Is she gonna be okay?” I asked. I knew that if I cried anymore it would make my mom more upset, so I widened my eyes as much as I could, keeping in as many tears as I could.
          “I d-don’t kn-ow honey, the-e vet-t-t said sh-she w-w-ould try her-er b-b-best.” I hugged my mom, I felt my tears soaking the shoulder of her sweater.
          We went to the vet immediately. They had a special room we were allowed to visit Shirley in as often as we wanted. She had already lost three ounces. She had three I.V.’s attached to her, and her fur was shaved around those areas, and she had a cone around her head. I ran and kissed her. She seemed so weak, and helpless. My mom was right, she smelled like rotting fish.
          It was very unclear if she was going to make it. Shirley had Parvo which is
an extremely deadly disease, our neighbors had two dogs that died from Parvo. Supposedly we discovered Shirley’s Parvo very early, so there were still things that could be done to help her. She was gone for six days total, and we visited her every day. The vet’s office would call us to notify us that she was still sick, but I didn’t want to believe it. I kept on telling myself that she was fine, and that she would be home soon. This was very strange, because I normally tend to think of the worst possible thing,
and freak out; I knew somewhere in me that this was a huge deal, but I just couldn’t let myself believe it. She had already lost a full pound, and every time we asked the vet about her, they said that they would try their best. That wasn’t good enough. My normal mind had come back, and everytime I thought about Shirley (all the time), I realized that

for all I know she could be dead. Coming home from school everyday to find that she was still alive was the best feeling, even though she wasn’t even home.
          After she was gone for a week, she finally came home. Her surviving was a miracle. I love her so much, and not only has she taught me to stick through bad times, this experience helped me understand that look on the dark side doesn’t help me, and that when I stay positive, I actually feel a lot better as a person.