My nose pressed against the frosted smooth glass. I kept silently calling please roll down the window, please roll down the window. My silent cries were mute. I returned to my deep thoughts of my past. My time as a little one was short and my memory is fuzzy. My parents weren’t in the picture. I was born in New Mexico. Brown eyes, black, brown, and white hair. I was pocket sized at that time. Oh, how things change. I was on my own for a long time. On one particular day in the middle of the summer, the sun was beating down as if the air was filled with fire. I was only a few months old; I was prowling around my little town. A pair of people found me and brought me home. They gave me a pretty good few months. The only issue is they didn’t like me. They were very abusive and I was kept outside. They left. I was in the scorching hot sun without water or food. A bunch of other people found me and they gave me food and water and cared for my lacerations and other issues.

I was in a car. My first car ride. The window was down and I felt like I was flying. The car ride was so long.

Colorado.

My new home. I stayed in this group home for little ones like me. I was cared for so well and without these people I would have expired. I spent a year there. The best day of my life came when these little faces came up to me. They hugged me and played with me. The boy chose me. He was my pal. I was his best friend. We were inseparable. I was part of their family. My real life started. I was fed well loved and cared for. Then he showed up.

This person was different. He wasn’t kind or caring. He was as close to Satan as you could get. He was awful to me. Just like my first people. He was awful to my new family. He treated them the same as he did to me. The tears they cried and the unrepairable pain they felt. I did everything to make them feel better.  I even attacked him several times to protect them. This was a constant for 6 years.

I am 7 years old now. My family was finally set free. Of course it was unfortunate events that led them this. I went everywhere with them. We moved to a new house. However, that didn’t last long. Three months passed and we moved again. This time into an apartment. I spend my days staying home waiting for my family to get home. I hear the key turn in the door. Then, CLICK. A screech from the door and I’m plastered in front of the door. I shake with excitement. I’m panting and howling. My family is home. The next four years are the exact same.

I’m 11 years old. Spring 2018, I have to move again. This time it’s just me. My family explained that the apartment wouldn’t allow me there because other people got in trouble for not following the rules. I’m at my family’s grandparents’ house. They have two other ones just like me. They have long blonde hair and they’re smaller and talk way more than me. I have all of my stuff and I’m able to have my own space to sleep. They care for me just as much as my family. The one I see everyday is my little girl. She is always over here. She takes me on walks. She plays with me. She is my best friend now. When she comes home from school my heart flutters and I jump up and down and I bark as loud as I can and tell her how much I love her. I may be just a dog but I am so much more than that.