Gypsy came into this world struggling. She had no mother and here chances were slim. She was the strongest of her siblings and she survived the late nights of being gorged and the early mornings of starving for breakfast.
The beep of the microwave meant it was meal time.
She was more than a pet she was our “baby.” Without the nurture and milk from her mother, she was chemically embalanced and we were told to put her to sleep. We ignored the vets opinion and she seemed to be alright. Gypsy never was normal, only as normal as she could be. We loved her, and still do, with all of our being and
didn’t see the problems lying deep within.
She was attacked by packs of dogs more than once. My pregnant sister beat a chow off of Gypsy the first time she was attacked. That night we were fortunate that the animal had only broken her skin. There were many more nights my mama ran outside to scare dogs away but in the end it didn’t matter. Mama, my sister, me and our children went on vacation and the first night we were gone Gypsy struggled to her death. Our neighbors told us it was the same dogs that had attacked her before. It was sickening, I had tried to protect her for all the times before and in the end I wasn’t there.
The worst part is to think she probably counted on me to rescue her. She is the first pet I have ever had to die in my care and it is definitely life changing. Who knew that love for a pet could be so strong.
Sometimes just for old sakes
I’ll go out and call in a high pitch voice…
“GYPPPSYYYYYY
I'll never forget you,
| Gypsy |
| Amelia |