Flashback Friday # 5

Take a trip back in time with me every Friday. Continue your journey over at Christopher and Tia's.



The summer I turned 14, I was on a mission...a mission to get a dog. My parents had had dogs before they had kids and they had passed away several years before. Plus, the December before, we had just moved to a new house. Clearly we needed a dog.

I don't remember where I first saw her, if we went to the pound or if we ran into one of those SPCA booths they like to set up at pet supply shops. But she stole my heart at first sight and I was over the moon when we brought her home.

I remember discussing with my Dad that I didn't know what we should name her. It was late, and we were locking up the house as we talked. In the quiet darkness, our discussion seemed to carry more weight. He suggested Waffle (because of her golden color) and Cinderella (because we had rescued her). After more days of thought I went with Waffle.

I was madly in love with her and she clearly knew she was my dog. We spent hours cuddled up, inside or out, playing fetch, or just being. But it was a scary place, because she was not a healthy puppy. The mange was the least of it.

That was the summer I had a scheduled week long trip away with my girl scout troop--my first such adventure. My parents convinced me to go, despite her health, and I spent a good portion of the trip worried about her. When I came back, she barked and barked when she saw me. She no longer remembered me.

We spent some time getting reacquainted, but she continued to get sicker and sicker. I was too young to really understand, despite my parent's gentle suggestions that she really might not get better. She simply had to, I loved her too much.

A month after bringing her home, we had to put her down. I sat with her, bawling, as the vet tech administered the shot.

I only have a handful of photos and a few weeks of memories but Waffle still holds a special place in my heart. She was my first dog, and remains the only dog that was ever "my" dog.