Golden Sunshine

In the second grade I got Daisy. I’d never had a Daisy before, and just thinking about Daisy recently I sent my mom on an immediate mission to find a 7 year old Rebecca photographed with a puppy of a Daisy because I believe quite certainly there could be nothing cuter than a gawky 7 year old me with that little slice of golden earthly perfection.

Daisy was a slice of delicious childhood. She was puppy in the ways all people, even the most hardened among us, adore puppies. She loved play, as if it was her job, and she loved us like nothing else mattered. When we got a cat, she stepped aside, and let the cat be the boss, as any good dog would. When my parents would fight, she’d hide with us and be our protector. She was a good couch pillow, and it was only after walking her wearing roller skates that I learned even the best laid plans go array. Daisy was a golden retriever. Where her retriever skills failed (you want me to fetch what?), she was certainly golden.

That golden girl got old and we refused to let her go. Even when arthritis and seizures took over, we fought it, requiring the doctor to fix her woes, as if he was more of a magician. But maybe he was part magician. And her, other part, magic.

As a social person intent of making as many friends as earthly possible, requiring to meet and speak to every person in any particular bar I step foot, it’s oddly peculiar that my closest confidants have been my pets.

The day I got laid off from my last job I came home and laid my body on my chaise, my head on the couch edge and wept to myself. Sophie came up alongside that small part where my hip curves in to my torso and sat herself down. She looked up at me once, in the eyes, and then nothing else needed to be said. She’d told me we’d get through this. Years before that when all my friends had gone home after a late ending party to their significant others, I came home, with more energy than I could direct in any particular direction. And so I danced. I picked up Sophie and we danced to whatever Top 40 nonsense was playing. Eventually she tired of fighting and eased in to the notion, she’d just have to withstand my love. It's been 10 years of breaking her down slowly with my love. When I got in to college, she was next to me opening up my mail. When my LSAT scores said I’d get a scholarship to law school, there she was. She’s lived in every apartment with me since I was 20 years old, met every boy I’ve ever dated, and some day I hope her to meet someone I date worthy of being called a man. She prefers football, but she doesn’t mind me staying in on a Friday night with Vin Scully calling the night’s Dodger game.

Pets tell the story of your life.

It’s difficult to see turning 30 in a few months and not see my pet as a storyteller of my early adult life. She’s like this vault of knowledge. A keeper of my tales. And through magic I will keep her to be my trusty book for life, my best companion.