Four-Legged Best Friends

In the past twenty years, my family and I have had an abundance of animal companions in our family. A mixture of horses, dogs, rabbits, lambs, pigs, cows, hermit crabs, and a guinnie pig. So choosing only one to write about seemed near impossible. Then I thought about the ones who have showed and taught me a little something about life and it was obvious: my first pony, Sugar and one of my dogs, Simon.

Christmas morning, 1998. I am six years old. I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t excited for Christmas this year. Since my birthday in August, I haven’t gotten the pony I asked for so I guess I can finally give up hope. My sister pokes me over and over until I find the urge to roll out of my cozy bed. I drag myself downstairs to find a big red and green sign saying, ‘Merry Christmas, Morgan!’ with arrows pointing towards the back door of our home. My eyes immediately lit up as I trotted outside to see, complete with a giant red bow, my round-bellied red-colored pony, Sugar.
Sugar was one of the first things in my life that had truly taught me responsibility. On the weekends, my parents would take my sister and I out to the barn where Sugar was kept. Every Sunday I would spend time brushing her, riding her, and giving her baths before feeding time. After her bath, I would French braid her tail in a way that showed off her natural blonde highlights hidden beneath the deep red hue.

Sugar was my best friend for years. I took her to all kinds of competitions on the weekends, where we would run barrels and other rodeo events that we practiced for each week. She would let me lie down on top of her for a nap, ride her while sitting backwards, stand on top of her, run underneath her, anything. She even ate chicken strips and potato chips with me. Until I grew too big and in need of a larger, more experienced horse, Sugar and I were inseparable.
Fast-forward a few years. It’s early Spring 2008. A little over a year ago, after reading an article about a young student breeding, weaning, and selling dogs in order to pay for college, my parents decided to take on this hobby. (Well, with the intention of it actually becoming my hobby.) Last February was when we got Corbin, our male and Libby our female Bichon Frise, which is a fancy name for a small, white, fluff ball. My parents registered both of them in my name, so let the college funding project begin.

It’s March and Libby is due with her first litter of puppies. She’s quite smaller than Corbin, the father, so her pregnancy was sadly, not very successful. With three puppies, one survived and even he had development issues. I immediately transformed into Dr. Janes. I monitored the small, white, rat-like looking puppy daily and was so relieved to see progress as each week passed. As he grew, his once twisted, dysfunctional rear legs slowly repaired functionally, but they never fully developed cosmetically. This led me to giving him the name Simon, after the main character in the movie Simon Birch.
Because he was born underdeveloped, I was not able to sell him for my college fund. It was a fortunate situation though because today he is my biggest fan. He hates when I am away at college, so he loves when my mom lets him Skype with me for a bit. The second I walk through the front door at home, he is rolled over at my feet, begging for me to rub his belly. His excitement is overpowering at times when I’m being lick attacked or scratched by his long, ‘overdue for a cut’ toenails.
As cliché as it may be to say, Simon taught me how important it is to appreciate what I have when I have it. His hind legs are still not fully functional, yet he is the most bubbly, lovable, outgoing dog and always has a smile on his face. Sometimes I think he knows that I helped him survive after he was born, and is simply paying me back with his undeniable, not even close to being subtle, gestures of appreciation.