Missing My Dog
I've lost count of how many times I've rambled to my friends about this, but I really miss my dog. She was a white teddy bear and was extremely adorable. She wasn't just a pet—she was a little bundle of love wrapped in soft white fur, with the tiniest, shiniest black nose. Every time she looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, it felt like she was seeing the world for the first time, always curious but always cautious.
She was timid, though. Small things would startle her. If I played the piano, she would hide under the couch, her little heart pounding with fear at the sound of the keys. I would stop sometimes, just to give her a break from the noise, and she'd peek out cautiously, slowly tiptoeing back into the room. As soon as I hit another note, back under the couch she'd go. She made me laugh with how sensitive she was.
But things took a turn. One day, I found out she was pregnant. At first, I was overjoyed—I imagined tiny little puppies running around my bed, bringing even more warmth into my life. But something wasn't right. She seemed weaker, and then, without warning, she miscarried. It was heartbreaking, seeing her like that, and I rushed her to the vet.
That's when I got the news. The vet told me she had Brucella, a bacterial infection that can be harmful not just to animals but also to humans. It was serious, and it explained everything. I didn't fully understand what was happening at the time, but I remember the dread in my stomach when the vet said she had to be taken away. Not for treatment, not for recovery, but to be used as an experimental animal because of her infection.
It all felt so sudden. One moment she was my little white teddy bear, scared of the piano, following me everywhere with her gentle, cautious eyes. And the next moment, she was gone, taken away to a cold, clinical environment where I couldn't comfort her. I never saw her again.
I still think about her a lot. Sometimes when I play the piano, I imagine her little head poking out from under the couch, wondering if it's safe to come out.
Enjoyed reading? Write me at hellomushroom @ proton dot me. 🍄