I write this and reminisce on the past few years as my best friend lies across from me. We look different, think different, and yet are so similar.



We sit in solace as the yellow sun’s rays comfort both of us.



Surrounded by dandelions, she crawls into a nearby butterfly bush, meeting the cool shade. The pink tulips and blue lilacs look especially bright and fresh on this young spring morning. Innocent and carefree, like a child, she is almost a year old now and nearly twenty-seven pounds. She will never be aware of the cruel world around her. Innocence is one of the most exciting things in the world.



Filled with love, real love, not the fake love thrown around today, she is eternally grateful. Her tail wags as I approach her.

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I used to have two munchkin cats. They died a year ago; however, I still think about them sometimes. I think about a lot of things.



Death is so erratic. In an instant, an entire being is erased from the earth. A unique personality is never seen again. A physical body is lost, but something else is lost as well, something unexplainable. The air seems empty and the heart heavy.



Death certainly humbles a man.


It took a few months of convincing to prove we were responsible enough until my parents finally allowed us to visit the shelter. Upon entering, we were greeted by a simultaneous cheer of optimism and joy. I awed in amazement. They were trapped behind those chained doors but remained so hopeful. Never in my life before had I seen such a diverse group before. Young, old, large and small, they all hoped for attention. It was incredible. I can still remember that distinct smell. Their remarkable gift for hope overflowed into the surrounding air.



An elderly man with a rich white beard approached us, welcomed us into his shelter, and said to my sister and I specifically, “It takes a lot of responsibility to care for another one’s life. Please don’t rescue one of these dogs if you are not one hundred percent committed to taking care of them for the rest of their lives”.



I hesitantly nodded. My sister did the same.



As I walked through the store, surrounded by life, it was impossible to choose one dog over another. I thought to myself, what makes one dog “better” than another? How do you know if you like somebody by solely looking at them? Their personality is a complete mystery.



It saddened me seeing those docks held captive behind those glass doors.



A group of near the back of the shelter caught my eye. There were four of them, two males and two females. I assumed they were siblings. For some unexplainable reason, I focused on the one alone, near the back of the crate. As her brothers and sisters jumped around in excitement, she remained in the back. Not because she was scared or uninterested, but by choice. I admired that odd similarity between us. I don’t like saying I chose her because it makes me feel like all those other dogs weren't worthy. I can say, however, that was a special connection.



Her name is Flower. And she is my best friend.



I’ve gotten to know her for about nine months now. I sometimes feel like I am using her in a way and I can’t reciprocate because of how much she does for my family and I. She surely has grown a ton since that first day we brought her home, but she remains that same innocent, carefree dog.

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I watch her while she lies in the grass. She enjoys a paradise of peaceful serenity unattainable by human beings. The sun continues to provide warmth against her shiny black coat. The sun begins to set, changing the color of the sky from a cool blue to an array of oranges, pinks, and purples. I open the backyard door and we both enter inside.