Snow
I numbly followed the vet into a room with my dog. She once again explained to me that it was absolutely necessary, but I was still forced to avert my eyes when she injected the poison into my yellow lab. When I felt tears come to my eyes I thought about my mom’s wedding next week, rather than the painful scene in front of me. The vet said something and I was snapped back to reality. Snow, my dog, was beginning to fall into her endless sleep. The human that had regretlessly murdered her handed me the familiar red collar. Unable to stay in the room, I trudge to my mother, who had been unable to go into the office with me. I reached into my pocket and felt a balloon that had not been blown up.
I was impatiently hopping as my mom blew up a red balloon. My dad came in and smiled at her. She tied the balloon quickly then went to greet him. I was too busy with the balloon to notice the following display of affection. While I was desperately tried to keep the balloon from hitting the ground Snow decided to help. She struggled to wrap her jaws around the fragile balloon, and we all watched as she futilely snapped at the floating toy. Finally she cornered it and it popped as she bit down on it. We all laughed when she jumped back, and then sniffed the ground, confused about the loud disappearance of her new toy.
A year later I struggled to drown out my parents loud yelling to get some rest. I snuggled deeper into my dogs’ soft fur. With the security of snow I did not have to admit that I was still afraid of being alone in the dark at the age of seven. The yelling intensified until I could tell my mom was crying as she yelled back. I wished I could comfort her and end their arguments.
We waited in the room filled with fashion and sporting magazines as the vet checked Snow. I flipped through a magazine; looking longingly at all the beautiful dresses while the veterinarian reported snows condition to my mom. They looked solemn, but I was too distracted to notice
“She has cancer” my mother stated emotionlessly as we were on our way home. I was not sure what cancer did, but I knew it meant she was ill. I did not respond, and simply sit quietly in the back seat with Snow. I thought of the irony of the divorce, and now my dog getting cancer. I rubbed the soft fur on her golden ears. She wagged her tail, unaware of the life-threatening disease, and enjoyed the ride.
Snow wagged her tail and stiffly, but eagerly, climbed into the car. She was too weak to jump in as she always had. I empathetically rubbed her ears, and she licked my hand, confused about how I could be sad on such a glorious day. She was happy to be in the vehicle, unaware that we were taking her to be assassinated. She had barely gotten used to moving to Arkansas to live with my mothers’ fiancé. My heart leaped at the sight of the vets. We got out of the car and went into the small waiting room and sat for what seemed like hours, but not long enough. She called us, and I numbly followed the vet into a room with my dog.
My mother was happily sitting next to my step father on the couch. My new baby brother was asleep in his crib. I was playing with my new puppy in my room when suddenly I got an idea. I reached into an overflowing junk drawer and pulled out a red balloon.
