Nine years ago I had a miniature Yorkshire terrior named Mickey. He was the best dog I have ever had. He was small, playful, and a great dog to sleep with. At the time I was nine years old living with my mother and my new step dad and newborn baby brother named Travis. Well, I had Mickey for about a year and I can admit that I wasn’t the greatest owner I the world. It was around the beginning of December and I have gotten in trouble for doing something stupid and I got sent to my dad’s house for a week. I wanted to take Mickey but my mother wouldn’t let me and so I said my goodbyes thinking I would see him in a week but I was wrong.
After a week I came home and Mickey was gone. I was devastated for two weeks. I refused to talk to my mother and the rest of my family, I wouldn’t even play with my little brother let alone hold him. It was a week before Christmas day and all I wanted was my Mickey back for Christmas, so the weekend before Christmas day I went back over to my dads house for Christmas with him and when I got back to my mother’s house there was no Mickey but a new puppy, a German Shepard named Baby. She was all black with tan paws.
At the time I hated her but after a few years I began to love her and also as I got older I learned why Mickey was taken away from me. I learned that I was just to young to take on a big responsibility such as taking care of a dog. But now nine years later I still have Baby but now we as a family have now added Daisy a 5-month-old female Chihuahua and Tiny a one-year-old male Chihuahua and even though I don’t have Mickey no more I still miss him everyday of my life.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.