![]() ![]() My family never went without a dog and I wasn’t about to break tradition. They worried I wasn’t prepared for the responsibility. I didn’t have a yard in which he could run freely. They said I worked too many hours to care for a dog. I saved my first paycheck for the purchase of a pug, which my parents advised me not to do. Ready to grow up and do something with myself. I graduated from Buffalo State and immediately moved away, ready for a new adventure. I slept in the same bedroom from infancy to adulthood. My parents never moved us from house to house or town to town. I had left of my own volition, but it hurt like hell just the same. Two months prior to plucking him from a litter in Bradenton, I had been in New York with my litter – my siblings, my mother and my father. I was 22 years old when I got Cubbie and 1,200 miles from home. And now I can’t imagine having spent such a formative time in my life with any other companion. It tore me up then and it tears me up now. ![]() I remember his first night, how he cried, how he missed his pug siblings, how he must have missed his mother and father. ![]() Sometimes this reminds me of when he was a puppy and I used to carry him down my apartment steps because he was still too little to do them on his own. I’m outside with bare feet guiding him to a tree so he can pee. Begging for more food and more water because the drugs he’s on make him more hungry and more thirsty than his usual ravenous self, which means he has to go to the bathroom ALL THE TIME. He spends his nights panting and grunting. Suppose it could be something about the lyrics.Ĭould be the heartbreaking realization that my beloved dog is not getting any better. Could be the fact that I’m listening to a long, slow cover of The Monkee’s Daydream Believer. What has got me so emotional right now? Could be 100 things. ![]()
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