I stood on the deck of the ship, bound for a new adventure, waving my hat and blowing kisses to my lover on the dock. Tears filled my eyes, and their eyes too. Except, I really wasn’t on a ship. I was in the back of a Toyota Rav 4 wedged between a laundry basket and a shower caddy headed for Granville, Ohio. And my lover? She was a teeny, scraggly mutt that we had gotten from the pound a decade ago. Yet, the dramatics were the same. As I left to start a new chapter in my life, heading to Denison University, the world at my fingertips, I couldn’t help but feel devastated. The pooch, standing 2 ft 5 in her full glory, had broken me.
The sadness continued upon my arrival at college. Unpacked and sitting in my dorm room, of the 30 or so pictures that I had brought, almost half portrayed my dog. I looked longingly at them that first night, and texted my mother.
“Dog pics, pls!”
It would be the first of many “Dog pics pls’.” Over the course of the next few days, I constantly called my mom, and of course by extension, my sweet, totally uninterested dog. As I spewed words of love at her, she got up off the couch, and walked out of frame. And yet, I couldn’t have felt more fulfilled.
When I asked my mom to send me a lock of fur, she drew the line. But, day after day was filled with pictures, videos, texts and calls. Denison was a world of possibility, and I loved it. Still, there was a little poodle shaped hold in my heart.
It’s not to say that I don’t love college. I absolutely do. I love my classes, have met some wonderful people, and keep adjusting to small town life. However, no one prepared me for the grief of leaving a pet behind. I have trouble not sharing a picture of my dog with everyone I encounter, and I can’t say that I don’t do that. But at night, when I reflect on my day, I still feel a tinge of sadness. Mrs. Beasley, my dearest nine year old puppy, I cannot wait to see you at Thanksgiving.