As a seven year old, I’d lost the dog my parents had had long before I was born. It was my first real experience with death and I remember the day vividly. But more vividly than that day, I remember the day we got Midnight.
Midnight was the most curious puppy in her litter’s cage at the humane society and she came right up to the bars and I was hooked. I knew I wanted that puppy. I wanted the one with the red collar. And so we brought Midnight home from the humane society in a little cardboard box. Only a few minutes into the car ride home, she poked her head out of the box and put her paws up on the side. Our curious puppy in the box wanted to see what was out side of her box.
If you know me, you pretty much know Midnight. If a dog can be your twin in personality, Midnight was mine. Our whole family raised her, but I taught her little things that I wanted my dog to know. She responded to people asking for a hug and would put her paws on your shoulders or step up onto your legs if you were sitting on the ground and put her head over your shoulder. She could shake, give high fives, give high tens, and, if for some reason she did something wrong – chewing the garbage or peeing in the house – you didn’t have to tell her she was wrong. All you had to say was “Midnight, apologize,” and she’d give you hugs and kisses. It was impossible to be mad at Midnight.
She was truly a beautiful dog. Some dogs are eternally puppies in their face and their movements, some grow up to be dignified – Midnight was a combination of both. She had a puppies eyes and she didn’t walk – she pranced. But she was also regal and when she sat, she sat perfectly straight, and she demanded our attention. We always referred to her as “her highness.” She was the queen of our household.
But she was also my best friend. I’m only 20 years old and life hasn’t necessarily been that easy for me. Midnight was the kind of dog you could hold and cry on for hours and she never moved except to kiss your tears away. Her ears went down when you cried. She could sense sadness. But she cuddled with you and kissed you and let you hold her as long as you needed to. She never even tried to move. She saw me through two deaths, three breakups, heartbreaks, a really horrible bout with depression and just the general angst of growing up. She came to pick me up every weekend from college last year when I lived at school. She slept in my bed when I was gone.
They say no one’s perfect, but I think that every dog is perfect for their owner. And to me, Midnight was just perfect. She was a little sassy – if she got mad at you, she shredded the garbage. She could open and close doors and she would unmake your bed even if you’d just made it to have it the way you wanted. But that was just perfect for me. I loved how curious she was and how much energy she’s always had.
Her death is particularly hard because we didn’t know she was sick. We literally found out and had to put her to sleep all in a five hour period. We never saw it coming.
Midnight was my best friend. In a world where you can’t always count on people, I could count on my dog. If a whole day was horrible, at the end of the day, it was a wash because I had Midnight and she made every day special, from the moment she woke me up by sneezing in my face and kicking me over so she had a space in bed by the sun, to the way she always watched me get ready in the morning and loved the smell of toothpaste, to the way I came out to the living room to give her goodnight hugs and kisses five or six times, just because she was so beautiful and looked at me everytime I turned around to go to bed like: “You’re leaving me? Don’t go yet.”
I loved Midnight so much. I can’t imagine that I would’ve gotten through as much as I have without her. She was incredible rock in my life and made the worst days worth it. I miss the way she was always so soft and her ears felt like velvet and she loved to have them petted and kissed. And I miss the way she liked to nuzzle you and walk under your legs to scratch her back. She was the biggest baby and I’m heart sick that I had to leave her behind.
Some people say that a dog is just a dog. But in my life, in my world, my dog has been more human to me than at least half the people I know. She was a person, and her personality was vivacious and curious, right up until the last second when she tried to follow my brother and
I out the visitation room door.
To us, you’ll always be the puppy in the box …
I miss you Middie, to the moon and back,
| Midnight Star |
| 4, June 2006 |
| The Kilpatrick Family |