Memoir Essay

Rachel Randgaard

Writing a memoir... The thought kind of scared me at first. Because there are a lot of memories that are too difficult to share, for multiple reasons. My memories all put together creates a picture that is me, who I am today. Some of my memories are too difficult to share simply because of how that particular memory of a time with someone are meant for me and that person alone to remember, and sharing that memory would be like giving an important piece of the picture of both our lives away. Other parts are dark and difficult to see, and they hardly make any sense to me yet. I do have one memory though that is harmless to share. A memory that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time, but most people would scoff at. A memory that happened a little more than five years ago...

I couldn’t sit still. Mom actually had threatened to glue me to my seat because I kept bouncing around so much. Of course my brother wasn’t much better than I was at this point, he couldn’t sit still either.

We were finally going to get a puppy.

I was so excited, my brother and I had been begging for a puppy for a few years now. Tonight dad had decided to let us get a puppy. Mom wasn’t really all that thrilled, she kept saying stuff like, “We’re not ready for a puppy! The house isn’t puppy-proofed, we don’t have any dog stuff like food, bowls, leashes collars!” It was beginning to kill the buzz that I had, but then dad convinced her that it was okay; we could just get that stuff the next day. So she quit talking about her concerns. She still didn’t think that we should get a puppy, but my enthusiasm was contagious, and mom soon was excited as well.

Finally dad stopped the truck; we were there.

The farmhouse that we had arrived at was a few miles outside of Renville. The smell of animals and hay was potent, but it was what I heard that made my heart race. I heard the sound of puppies coming from the garage. A woman walked out and talked with my dad for a bit, I wanted them to hurry because I wanted to see the puppies so badly.

Finally the woman turned to me, “Do you want to go see the puppies?” She asked.

“Yes!” I exclaimed bouncing up and down.

I felt like the woman was walking so slow. I wanted to run to my future companion, not walk. I refrained from being rude though. Finally we made it to the barn; the volume of the excited yips of the puppies increased. They were all in a little pen on the floor, running in and out of the tiny dog house in the pen to get food and water. There were six puppies in all, all boys; the girls had already been taken. Three of the puppies looked like normal black lab puppies. One looked like it was born with skin that was about two sizes too big, I watched it awkwardly waddle around and decided that that one wasn’t the one. The next one was absolutely huge, my dad and my brother wanted that one “Block-head” they nicknamed him. The woman selling the puppies told me that he weighed in at about twenty pounds, whereas his siblings weighed about ten to twelve pounds... Well, all except one.

The runt of the litter, weighing in at only eight pounds, was the most beautiful of them all. I crawled into the pen and the puppy ran to me. That was it.

He was the one. I felt like it was love at first sight. His eyes were the color of butterscotch, but his siblings all had dark muddy brown eyes. His fur had a strange brownish red tint in the right light; his siblings had flat black coats. He had long slender legs and a narrow face. His siblings all looked fat and chubby in comparison.

“So beautiful,” I murmured. I looked up at my parents as the puppy snuggled into my lap. “He’s the one.”

My parents looked at each other. “Why would you want the runt?” asked Mom. The puppy then, almost as if he knew what she was saying, looked at her with those big beautiful eyes. My brother whined, “But I want Block-Head!”

So now it came down to my dad. His decision was final. I could feel that if I didn’t do something, I, and ultimately the beautiful puppy would lose. I reluctantly put the little puppy in my dad’s arms. The puppy worked the rest of the magic, looking up almost adoringly at my dad; and though he could not speak with his mouth, the puppy spoke with his eyes to my dad. The seconds I waited for his answer felt like an eternity.

“Dad, he will be mine.” I finally said.

Dad then looked at me, then to mom, then to my brother, then to the lady selling the puppies and nodded.

I won. My brother wasn’t so thrilled. But I was certain that my brother had not had the connection with “Block-head” that I had with this puppy. It was as though something was telling me that if I didn’t take this puppy, he would suffer treatment of the cruelest kind.

We took him home and named him Spencer. A few weeks after we had brought him home we took him to the vet only to discover that Spencer had been born with digestive problems. We loved him anyway. He quickly found his way into my brother’s heart as well. Spencer was such a good dog, there will be no other like him.

Some people who worked with my parents came to see Spencer when he was about a year old. He was tall (his head came to about my waist), beautiful, smart, but still had that sickness. He was otherwise very healthy. The people that came to see Spencer told us, “If I had a dog that was as... deformed as he is, I would have put him to sleep.”

I made sure I never saw those people again. I loved Spencer so much, and no one  had the right to call him “deformed”. It was then that I knew I was right about bringing Spencer home. If I had not, he would never had a chance at life.

When Spencer did pass away... It was like a blow straight to the heart. I was there to watch him die, to hold his paw as the life faded from him... that is the hardest thing a person can ever do... watch someone that they love so dearly fade away...

Spencer changed me. In life and in death, he taught me so much. I miss him more than anything.

I guess what I want people to take away from this is that we should treat people the same way. It doesn’t matter if a person is short, tall, beautiful, ugly, perfect, deformed, healthy or sick. We should love people for who they are, not what they appear to be. That’s what that beautiful puppy taught me.

In loving memory of

Spencer Randgaard

12-08 to 06-12