Pets.

When I was little, and I mean back before memories have any substance and most things I recall are from frequent re-tellings rather than the original experience, I wanted a pet. Many kids want a pet. Girls usually want cats and occasionally ponies, and boys want dogs or something like that. Anyways, my family decided that we would get a dog. I was absolutely terrified of any dogs. The sight of one sent me into frequent hysterics. I had also recently been bitten by a cat and wasn't too fond of them either. I was a rather jumpy kid.

My parents decided not to bring me to the dog search until they had narrowed the contestants down to a few finalists. The summer after first grade, when I was six, they brought me to the pound to see this little, white, fluffy thing. I was terrified of him, but figured I might as well live with him as much as any other dog. We were fairly certain we wanted this guy, but on our way out of the pound, Dustin saw a puppy who was black and brown, mostly resembling a beagle, and adorable in every way. Rex became our new family dog.

On the way home, we had him in the back of the van in a pet carrier. Dustin, Trish and I were gathered around the cage peering at him thoughtfully. The dog let out a half-bark half-whimper noise. I jumped backwards and burst into tears, screaming, "He barked at me!" The next few weeks were no different--I commonly had to jump on the nearest table, counter, or other accessible furniture to escape the reach of this tiny, friendly little puppy. Thankfully, Dad finally convinced me that, even if he did bite me for fun, his teeth in no way hurt. And I was never again afraid of Rex.

Rex used to sleep on Dustin's bed every night. As Dustin got older and bigger, he would tell us stories of how Rex would lie spread out from the head to the foot of Dustin's bed, and Dustin would cram himself between Rex and the wall. We also laughed at Rex the time he ran into the sliding glass door after Mom had cleaned it. It was less funny when I repeated the act a few weeks later. Dustin and I, as kids, also tried to teach Rex to sit. He actually did learn to sit, but it's the only trick he ever learned, and only when you hold up a piece of food he wants.

Once he got bitten by a snake, and we thought he wouldn't make it. The vet said that we could pay a couple thousand for an anti-venom or give him some Benedryl and water and hope he lasted the night. We didn't have a few thousand dollars lying around, so we went with the latter and decided to see how he fared. Dad told us the next morning how he had gone to check on Rex in the middle of the night and Rex looked terrible. Dad thought we had lost him for a minute, but he was just sleeping and in pain. To be nice, Dad went to the fridge to bring Rex a piece of bologna. It took a few seconds to open the package, but he took a piece and shut the fridge door--only to see Rex standing there expectantly. Not even snakes could keep that dog from food.

Rex was diagnosed with bone cancer earlier today, and my parents made the choice to put him down. He was in pain, and there was nothing that could be done to help him. He was 15 years old. It's going to be strange; we moved into that house 17 years ago, and got Rex two years after that. The majority of the time I spent there, Rex was there. He was the first pet I ever had, and certainly the only one that I've ever loved so much.

I'm going to miss him.