For My Chop
The leaves in New York were turning, and I traveled hours driven by the feeling that can only be described as fate. Like coming upon love for the first time. When I saw him, I knew. One of three in the little basket, he was the only one for me. I held him in my lap for 4 hours on the drive home, stroking his soft puppy fur, counting his spots. His whiskers were white on one side and black on the other like he just couldn't make up his mind. Brutus. My baby Brutus.
Brutus saved my life. He saved me from a time in which I was so lonely I didn't know if I could go on. He introduced me to my first real boyfriend. He taught me how to care about someone more than I cared about even myself. He licked my tears away when I cried, and cuddled with me in the cold Syracuse winters, us huddled together under my quilt in a little loving ball.
He was the first dog my dad learned to love again after the death of his own, more than 25 years before. He rough housed with my little sister and sat on my mom's lap while she typed.
When I was gone, he would make nests of my clothes to sleep in so that he could feel like we were together. And I would call home and make my mom put Brutus on the phone. I sang to him while he would doze off in the sunny spots that shone through the sliding glass doors. I told him things i couldn't tell anyone else.
Sometimes he would get mad at me when I would leave. I'm sorry I left you for so long little boy. I'm sorry i couldn't always take you with me. He always knew when i was leaving. He always held a little grudge.
I will never love anyone like I loved Brutus. I will always love you baby.