When I was born, Chloe the black Lab had been in the family for three years. Since I was the first child, she had absolutely no idea what to make of me.
You know how you read those books where the pet is jealous of the newborn, like the book Socks we read in third grade? Let’s just say it was nothing like that. Two days after I was brought home in a little Moses-basket (yeah, that’s what my mom calls it), Chloe was curled protectively around me every night. She was fascinated with me. As I grew older, she was my constant companion. She let me drape her with clothes with no protest, she let me ride on her back without complaint, we basked in the sun on the doorstep.
Chloe died when I was nine years old. For days I cried, sometimes imagining I could hear the clack of her nails down the halls. As memories of my sweet old Chloe fade, and my current dog, another black Lab who is the complete opposite of Chloe dominates my life, I know I will never forget her. She will always be my dog.