A Narrative Essay About Being A Dog

For most people, there are certain family quirks. Perhaps both parents are teachers so they expect high standards for their children. Maybe the father is a stay-at-home dad and is always around and in the child’s life. For my family, on the other hand, dog showing is that passion. When I go to a friend’s house and they do not have several pets running around, I always ask them if there is a reason for this. Sometimes it is because their mom or dad is allergic or sometimes it is a cultural thing. To me, not owning dogs is just straight up bizarre.

It is not like my parents grew up in that environment either. My mom was from a well-to-do family with five children and several dogs over the years.. And my dad? He was raised in a modest Jewish family that owned maybe some cats. Throughout high school and college, my mother

Then January 18, 2010 came around, and there’s a soft, shining snow coming down. Like normal, my siblings and I were in the back seat of my dad’s blue Mountaineer SUV playing Pokemon together, and we were anticipating to be at the house of one of our parents’ friends’ houses relatively soon. Nothing unusual, right? Even when we had arrived, nothing seemed out of the blue. It wasn’t until my parents’ friends rushed us to the basement that I realized what had happened. We were picking up my first dog! Like any other rambunctious eight year old, I immediately ran over to the pen, gushing and crying over the balls of fluff. I spotted the small, copper colored pup with the big brown eyes and splat of red fur in the middle of his forehead. Somehow, I suddenly was drawn to his brother who looked exactly the same except for the fact that his face was big and white without the giant red freckle. I was hooked. A week earlier than I had anticipated, I was bringing home my own perfect fur baby: Riley. You can bet that I printed out photos of him and brought them to school that next