Part Two: Lucky's Young Years

Post First Originally Published on Tuesday, July 9th, 2013, 6:53 PM

It’s 5:16 AM of Wednesday; May 22^nd, 2013 as I write this. I’m writing this in the living room, looking out the windows where the sun has barely risen yet. There’s a beautiful, benign light in the horizon over some short trees from my eastwardly facing neighbors. I love this moment of the day. It’s awe-inspiring. It’s quiet, beautiful, and it’s mine. Where to start? I remember the day I got my puppy and future beloved dog. After doing some chronicling and thinking back, my story with Lucky started in the early summer of 2002. I had just finished 3^rd grade and summer was to be looked forward to with no academic work needing to be done yet, back at that age. I must have broached the topic of wanting a dog several times to introduce the idea to my parents and get the discussion going. My mom was relatively open to the idea while my dad must have been the harder of the two to convince. Through the discussion of dogs, came the breed of dog that I wanted. It was down to two breeds: German Shepherds or Golden Retrievers. My grandparents on my mother’s side had a German Shepherd when my mom was quite a young child. While I liked German Shepherds - as our neighbor owned two German Shepherds – I really wanted a Golden Retriever. The Disney movie, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, strongly influenced my love for Golden Retrievers. The natural scenery, the touching storyline involving the animals’ struggles, the love and self-sacrifice for each other and for their human companions, put together with the befitting music engraved an unforgettable impression on me.    

I do remember the day, even at that age, of my rendezvous with my future dog. We had been thinking for some time, and my mom found a Golden Retriever breeder in the yellow pages. That one, sunny, summer afternoon, I was sure it was the day. I could feel it in the air, a sense of excitement manifesting itself as my brother, sister, and I were all scurrying around the house, cleaning up and picking up any objects that may be hazardous to a puppy. The breeder’s house was in a suburban neighborhood over an hour away. That was fine with me. More anticipation builds during the wait. I remember what the breeder’s house looked like; it was a corner house. In the front yard, they had the puppies in the puppy exercise containment pen. I had told my mom that I wanted a female one because I wanted her to have puppies so I wouldn’t have to get another dog- yes I realize now that this is out of the league of possibility. Out of the litter, one puppy drew our attention more than all the other ones. When we got there, it was around evening and most of the other puppies were napping. This puppy was a female. She interacted with us while chewing at a sock, as puppies do. My mom preferred a male dog so she asked to see the parents. Of course I was much shorter at that age but the father dog was huge as my mom was also surprise at his size. My mom made the comparison of the father dog to the size of a bear. Uncomfortable with how big the male puppies could potentially become, it was clear which puppy we would chose, or more accurately, would choose us. My mom cradled our puppy home in the car. She sat in the middle row of our big, blue, dodge caravan, holding the gem that was the center of attention. I sat in the back row, which I was highly unaccustomed to. About half way back home, while brainstorming potential names, she let out her first wine. Here she was, with us, for the first day of many to come.

Her first steps through our home were comparable to as if I had entered the Taj Mahal, taking slow, delicate steps and observing everything in the surroundings with novelty and awe. We followed her closely to make sure she did not attempt to chew on anything that we had missed when cleaning up the floor. Inexplicably, she squatted down and went number two right in the middle of our kitchen floor. I had promised my mom I would be responsible for picking up her Uh-Oh’s, but being foreign at the time, I thought it was disgusting and ended up having my mom do the job. We set up her puppy pen on the only floor with hard tiles so that it would not absorb any urine in case she went. Just a little later after we situated her into her containment pen, she let out loud, poignant barks, one right after another. Barks which were much more high pitched than I expected a puppy to be able to make. I even joked to my brother that our puppy was just making a loud introduction and marking her arrival to the “commoners”. I remember not knowing how to deal with her behavior and even felt like we may have made a mistake of getting a puppy during her continuous barking fit. Ha! Silly me! Before bed, I remember my mom stopping by in our rooms, cradling our puppy like a baby to say goodnight. She looked adorable. The next morning, we got up early to let her out to the backyard to do her business. I have some pictures of her as a puppy in the backyard. I am uncertain if these pictures are from that day though. In terms of memories of her as a puppy, these are the main ones that readily come to mind. I have a few other quick clips of memories of her as a puppy but they are just glances that come to mind. I do very vaguely remember getting her name tag made with her name and information engraved onto the metal tag, which by that time, we had come to the agreement that her name, would be, Lucky.  

As in life though, there are the not-so-fond memories she experienced growing up. On that July fourth, we decided to bring her to a firework show. Needless to say, due to ignorance on our part, she became panic-stricken and took off after slipping out of her collar. I wanted to get a hold of her. I didn’t care about the fireworks. But my mom took action and told me to stay to continue to watch the fireworks while she went after Lucky. I doubt I was enjoying the fireworks very much. I had no idea how my mom got a hold of Lucky and to this day, still do not know, but thank god she did. I remember being in the van, sitting quietly, looking at her, and stroking her fur as she layed curled up in the middle row, resting. Lucky would serve to be a beloved companion in my life, along with aiding my growth through understanding myself, and helping me learn a couple important life lessons. It was not her time to go. It was way too early. Ever since that year though, she would be terrified during every Fourth of July period when legal or illegal fireworks would be set off.   

My dad had left the door open. As a young adolescent now, Lucky had escaped outside the vicinity of our backyard and home. I hear the commotions of my mom yelling that Lucky was outside in the front yard. I rushed out to see my young, bouncy, energetic girl frolicking around in the grass in the front yard. Acting out of fear of her getting lost, injured, or worse from a bypassing car, I chased after her, just trying to get a hold of her and wrestle her down. I smirk as I write this as I know how ineffective and silly that plan was. Getting a piece of chicken would have been a better idea. I fortunately was able to get a hold of her with the help of my brother. It was all the way on the other side of the street, wrestling her down when my hand finally got some control of her, and with one of my classmates at the time looking at me. Embarrassing, but I didn’t have a choice.

In Lucky’s young years, our overgrown, lush backyard was her home. I was often more worried about her being alone than she probably was. She would run and jump on the windows facing our backyard, look at us inside inquisitively, then scratch the windows with her paws to indicate her wanting something. The winter of 8^th grade, for our family trip to Taiwan, we planned to have one of our good friends at the time come by once or twice a day to make sure she was fed, had water, and to check up. That winter, there were strong winds and rain that tore through, and I recollect when I first saw her after coming back, Lucky gave me the impression of being this wild animal with disheveled fur covered in patches of mud, yet having this golden fur that shone through the dirt as she ran excitedly to our arrival. There were tree branches all over the place. It certainly looked like there was a windy storm and yet, she was fine tooth and nail.

Sometime during my late elementary school and middle school years, Lucky would be causing trouble for the neighbors. We had a couple loosened, wooden planks in the fence due to the repeated hits which were a result of all the times when my brother and I would play ball in the backyard. One day, while I was at school, Lucky got through the fence and from what my mom told me, Lucky went wild there and broke a couple things in their backyard and home. I do not mention any of this to disparage Lucky for how she was at a youthful age, but to demonstrate the entirety of who she was.