I don’t remember much from my childhood. All I know is that I had tons of brothers and sisters. We were all hoarded in a tiny fenced in area, surrounded by other fenced in “families”. I never knew them or my siblings. Big, giant figures would come around often, picking us up, talking to us in childish voices, taking us away one at a time. It turns out you had to be all behaved and cute looking to get chosen. Otherwise you were just left behind.

Pretty soon, I realized I was one of the last ones left. All my brothers and sisters had been bought except for three of us. I was the smallest — everyone said it was bad to be the smallest. So when a potential family came around, I sat nicely and looked as cute as I possibly could. They peeked into our fence and kept walking; I guess I wasn’t what they were looking for. My brother was hogging the water, so I dragged him off by the scruff of his neck so I could get in a drink. I heard a laugh, and the littlest of the giants ran up to my fence, picked me up, and pulled me into a strangling hug. I didn’t need to be cute to be chosen. Just myself.

I had no expectations when they took me away. All I hoped was that they would give me a water bowl and the occasional handful of kibble. But my new family lived in a mansion! It was huge; there were soft floors to sleep on, more big beds than I could dream of (even though they yelled when I hopped on them), and they even gave me yummy bits of food that sounded like “beats” or “eats” or “treats” — I don’t know, I just got excited when their voices went all high.

It turns out my new family needed me more than I needed them. They pet me, snuggled with me, and loved me more than my old brothers and sisters ever could in that empty fenced-in house.

But I was lonely. In the mornings and in the night, my family was home to walk with me, to play with me, to be with me. During the day, I slept. The big mansion I lived in now felt like the old fenced-in house — cold and empty. When my family came home, they were so excited to see me! They would run up to me with big smiles, tell me about their day, then go about their own business. The house felt warm again.

We changed houses a lot, but it was always the same feeling. It didn’t matter which place we happened to be in — what mattered was that we were all there. I still wait at the window every day… I wait and wait for someone to come back to make whatever house we are in a home.

—-

I wrote my “how evil came into the world” story from a first person point of view, so I thought I would give it another try by writing my story of home from the perspective of my dog.

I have one older brother. We lived in a townhouse surrounded by friendly kids around my age and my brother’s age. It was fantastic; all the kids in the neighbourhood would come together and play outside until the street lights came on, then we would slowly merge into someone’s house until dinner time. I always had someone to keep me company — my neighbour friends, their parents, my brother, my parents, my many cousins, etc. When I was 11, we moved into a new house and I changed schools. My brother was getting older and preparing to move out, and it was getting harder and harder to see my extended family because of our location change and the fact that we were all getting older and had other commitments. While the house itself was an upgrade, it didn’t feel like an actual home. This was a strange feeling to me. I had spent so much time in other people’s homes back in my old neighbourhood that I should be used to new houses. Now I know that it wasn’t the house itself that made a place a home, but the people that surrounded you in it.

As I went through highschool, I was very envious of people with big families; some had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins living with them. They would walk in the door and be greeted instantaneously. I was in my late teens; my brother moved out, my dad worked night shifts, and my mother (suffering from “empty nest syndrome”) shut me out completely after my brother moved out, and chose to work late almost every day. I intentionally joined sports teams that would keep me late at school to avoid coming back to my empty house.

As lame as it may sound, a dog is truly man’s best friend. After getting a dog, it felt like someone was always waiting for me to come home. Her stubby tail would wag so fast that it was a blur! Even today, when my parents go out of town and the house is empty, it leaves me comforted knowing that my smelly little dog is there with me.

It is wrong of me to complain about having such a nice place to sleep when hundreds of people are living on the streets in Vancouver. Lately I’ve come to realize that having a great job, lots of money, a beautiful house, etc., means absolutely nothing if you have no one to share it with. The people that you love make a house a home.

Works Cited

“Empty Nest Syndrome: Tips for Coping.” Mayo Clinic. Web. 31 Jan. 2014. <http://www.mayoclinic.org/empty-nest-syndrome/art-20047165>.

Lee, Jeff. “Vancouver’s street homeless population doubled this year: report.” The Vancouver Sun. Web. 31 Jan. 2014. <http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Vancouver%2Bstreet%2Bhomeless%2Bpopulation%2Bdoubled%2Bthis%2Byear%2Breport/6698009/story.html>.