Childhood pets

I've had many pets over the years, and yet I can still remember all of their names. I see each of them in my mind's eye as I write this, and perhaps none of them is more cherished than Montana. Those before her were my parents pets, never mine, and so I did not feel much of a connection to them when they died. I was far too young anyway. Montana was differnet though, she was mine, and the day she died was one of the saddest of my life.

I remember the first moment I saw her. I was a small 3 year old child and she was an even smaller puppy amongst a dozen other puppies in a small house that I cannot recall a single detail of, but I can remember seeing Montana. A long story short, we took her home and spent the next eleven years together.

I remeber the night before she died. It was cold and I was getting ready for bed. I heard her bark and thought something might be wrong, but she was quiet almost instantly and so I thought nothing about it.

The next morning, a cold November morning by Alabama standards, I went out to feed her before going to school. There was a small, old barn where she would often sleep at night and so I thought nothing of it to check and see if she was sleeping, and sure enough there she was, but this time she did not wake up when I called her name, and, as I touched her, softly at first but then with more force as if pleading with her to get up, I knew she would never wake up again.