Essay on Puppy Love

Puppy Love

Thirty-three thousand years ago, man domesticated the wolf. Ever since then, century by century, decade by decade, pets have become progressively more domesticated. Humans have bred dogs that fit in rabbit holes, can swim well, and are expert locators. In 1870, canines became "man's best friend" and have remained so until this day. Nowadays, dogs are being used for wide assortments of assignments such as helping the sightless move about and also as medicine. Dogs have been used to cure families for generation. They have brought everybody together and have given them a sense of purpose. They keep the lonely, company and help the sick recover. A pet, no matter it's size or weight, regardless of what color or breed it is, can forever change the life of it's owner. As his master, I, Charles Sperduto, am taking it upon myslef to tell the story of how my dog, Fido, forever changed my life for the best. He was a good friend. When I was sick, he comfortably sat beside me and laid his head on my chest just waiting for me to feel better. When I was upset, he would solve the issue by rapidly prancing around the house and roll around on the carpet to humor me. Goodness, when he stood up, his hair would stand on end and you could not tell whether he was an animal or the most unusual tumbleweed you had ever laid eyes upon. Anyhow, Barbara, my beloved wife, had just passed on a few months before I received Fido. My son David, and his family reckoned it was a good idea to adopt a dog for me to keep me company. Now, since I lived close to an hour from any of my kin, they hoped a dog would be able to take care of me. They knew I had issues with depression in the past, especially since the war. They did not want me to seclude myself in my home all the time. I needed that stimulation from having somebody (or something) else around. Actually I had started slipping off the edge after Barbara passed, and their gift was just in time. When David and his wife, Christine came over for my birthday, they brought the little rascal. Well, I had never actually owned a dog before. I had always wanted one as a child, but my dear mother had enough mouths to feed as it was. It was a complete suprise. I never expected them to get me a beautiful tan and white puppy for my birthday. Of course I declined the offer at first. I had enough trouble keeping up with my own legs in the first place, however, I ultimately agreed to take care of the puppy. I named him Fido, which is Latin for trust and loyalty. Dogs have been portrayed throughout the centuries, especially in northern Europe as symbols of trust in marriage. It seemed a fitting name for him. The first few weeks were agonizing. He had not been potty trained yet, so he was relieving himself all over the house whenever he felt the urge to go. We did not get along well at all during that time. Once he learned to use the bathroom outside though, the atmosphere lightened and we started building our friendship on mutual loyalty to each other. After the third month, I finally noticed a change in myself. During the year after Barbara passed, I dwelled in misery all the time. I found it impossible to overcome the last 50 years of memories with her and move on with my life. She was anything and everything to me. Barbara was the singular most important aspect of my life. I saw no way out of my pain, but Fido changed all of that. He turned my bleak, black world into one that was bright and hopeful. We would play a lot. I would bend down on my knees and play tug of war when he was feeling fiesty and would toss a ball if he was getting ansy. It was about a year into our relationship when things took a change for the worst. I was rushing to the kitchen to get the kettle off the stove when I slipped on some of the water Fido had accidentally splashed out of his bowl. I hit the tile floor with a massive thud. I could have sworn I heard a crack as my head slammed

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