About five years ago on my old blog I had a series called Memoir Monday, where I shared snippets from my life. My plan is to revise them and share here either weekly or every other week. I’m calling the series Tell a Memory Tuesday.
[bctt tweet=”I’d love for you to join me and share some memories of your own.” username=”GaylWright”]
To start off the series I will share a memory from childhood. Next I may jump ahead and begin with my wedding.
When the post was first written I combined prompts from a blogging class and a linkup. This post has been edited and updated. The two prompts were:
- Write a true story of a good memory from childhood.
- Why the story matters.
Memory: My First Puppy
The story of my first puppy is filled with memories both good and bad. I believe this story matters, because it shows that God cares even down to a child’s longing for a pet. It is also a story of how I had to deal with the death of that pet. It’s a part of growing up.
I don’t remember when I first realized I wanted a puppy, and I’m not sure my parents had money to spare for purchasing one. But when I was nine years old, one of my best friends, who also lived in my neighborhood, had some puppies to give away.
She brought them all to my house and let them run around in the yard. One came running to me and melted my heart. Well, my parents consented and I had my dog, even though he had to stay outside. I wish I had a picture of him to show you. My dad gave me lots of ideas for a name, including Lancelot.
For some reason we settled on the name Leroy. I really have no idea where Daddy came up with that name. I had never heard of it in my nine short years of life. Here is Leroy’s story in poetry form:
My First Puppy
My first puppy at age nine,
was very dear you see.
Of all the puppies there in line,
he ran straight to me.
By my side he would stay,
that mutt so cute and brown.
And when my brothers, rough would play,
my pup would knock them down.
Walking to the library
one day with my class,
Imagine my surprise to see
him sitting in the grass.
My classmates were enthralled.
A dog had come to school!
Digging under the fence he’d crawled,
using his paws as tools.
How did he find his way
along that common mile?
He somehow knew just where to go
and how to make me smile.
Leroy Gets Sick
I don’t remember how many years I had Leroy, but one morning he was not acting himself. We realized he was sick. My dad told me it was distemper which was like pneumonia for a dog. Leroy did not get better.
[bctt tweet=”I remember the trip to the vet to say goodbye. He rode on my lap in the car, and I’m sure I was crying.” username=”GaylWright”]
My dad sympathized. He understood how I felt. He said that he wished we had let him stay in the house the night that was so very cold.
Leroy was a short haired dog and probably couldn’t handle it the freezing temperatures. He slept in a sheltered storage area, but there was no heat in unless any came from the hot water heater. We lived in Florida, and I think the extreme cold that night might have come as a surprise.
Alive in My Memory
Anyway, that’s the story as I remember it. I choose to remember the fun times I had with my very own dog. He really loved me, too, and was always with me. Leroy may have been just a mutt, but to me he was the best dog ever.
All those things in the poem really happened along with lots more. Leroy would actually jump and growl at my brothers if they pretended to hurt me. He always tried to protect me.
Though I don’t have a picture of him, Leroy will live on in my memory. When I think of him, it takes me back to my childhood and so many memories flood my mind.
[bctt tweet=”What about you? Do you have a memory that stands out from your childhood? Please share if you’d like. I’d love to hear your stories.” username=”GaylWright”]