When I was a little kid I was asked to think back and write about my first memory. I automatically thought about my dog, whom I got when I was two and a half. She was different from all the other dogs: the only black one. I remember daddy saying ‘I don’t want a dog, but if we get one it has to be her.’ When we left my uncles house I imagined life with a dog. Being little as I was I imagined it differently than it is, but I couldn’t wait.
A few days later my parents woke us up early. My sister was four at the time and she had to clean her room. I was too little to do much of anything. She threw herself at the ground yelling about how ‘Emily doesn’t have to do chores.’ While she was crying my dad and I left. In the car he told me we were going to my uncles house to get the dog. I ran up to the door and opened it on my own (still dont know how I did that) and grabbed the little black dog from her bed. She was asleep in seconds. I put her in the box in the car and took her home.
Now she’s 11. I still have my dog.