My Pet
I remember the days when I was a little kid and dreamt of a pet. Just like other children. I dreamt of a dog, a puppy that would be my friend. I imagined how I would take it out for a walk, how we would play together, how it would bark at me when I came home from school.
And I finally got it as a present for my birthday. I was happy only for a week or so: I quickly realised that it was not that easy to get up twenty minutes earlier to walk the pet. The little creature (Buddy he was called) got up around half past five and began to scratch the floor, squeak and even bite me slightly at my heels. So he got really naughty and started getting on my feeble nerves.
I finally lost any compassion for the dog when in the darkness I stepped a few times into the puddles he had deliberately made right at my door. No, I didn’t punish him. I didn’t do him any harm. Fortunately this happened just a few times. Day by day growing up he got more and more quiet. I suppose these changes in the dog’s behaviour were connected with the changes in his body. He got more sturdy and even a bit obese, which resulted in his aptitude for a more sluggish way of life. Thus we both were quite happy.
I thought that I had lost any interest in the pet and was nearly indifferent to him when one day Mom said Buddy had disappeared. She left him by the entrance door of the shop and probably didn’t attach the lead firmly enough to the pole. The knot loosened and our dog made his escape chasing a cat or something else. I remember how I sat down to table fully devastated by the news. I felt that at that very moment I really missed him. I needed him as I had never needed before. I realised that Buddy was my pet and not just a piece of furniture in the house. I realised that he was a living creature…
A few days later we received a call from an elderly woman living in the opposite part of the city. She said that the dog itself had come up to her looking at her with its clever eyes asking for food. Buddy had never been aggressive, so he didn’t frighten the woman. When she gave him a piece of bread, he submissively followed her right to the front door. She understood Buddy was not a mere stray dog: he had a collar on. She found the phone number on it and gave us a call.
I was really happy to get Buddy back. You know something really changed in my attitude to him. I came to understand that he is my friend. Really he is my friend. He is sitting by me now, wagging its tail and asking for his favourite canine crunchies. He is an old person now. And sometimes I dream that he will bite me at my heels and wake me up at six again…
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