You Left Too Soon :(

Who is your best friend? Your neighbor, mom, dad, sibling, cousin, aunt, uncle. Many people have more than one best friend. To me, there is one and only one. To be honest, it used to be two, but after the worst tragedy of all time, it came down to one.

It is extremely hard for me to write this blog, but what a better way to express my feelings than to share them with you.

When I used to live in the Dominican Republic I lived in a small neighborhood. One where the whole family were feet from one another. It was a “barrio” Everytime we cooked we shared our food with one another. I felt privileged to grow up in such a loving neighborhood.

One day, my cousin had gotten a dog named Blacky. I had fallen in love with her the moment I had set my eyes on her. I had always wanted a dog. Blacky was not mined. But I still felt like she was mine. Time passed and she grew up to be a beautiful dog. More time passed and she had babies. My sister and I were there, to comfort her and to show her that she had 4 extra paws that would help her take care of her babies. My cousin’s house was limited in space. So she decided to give my sister and me one of Blacky’s baby dogs. Imagine my excitement.

We took the dog to my house. We had bought him a little bed and a baby dog bottle. At the moment I was so happy because I had a baby. I looked at him in the eyes and named him Clifford. No, the dog was not big or red, he was a baby golden retriever. The days passed and he grew and grew.

Frequently we would take him out of his house and play with him in the front yard. All my neighbors loved him. However, my sister always stood away from Clifford because she was scared of him. Every time we took him out of his cage, she would go to my grandma's house and hide.

One time Clifford was barking like a maniac. My mom had woken my sister and me from our heavy sleep. She had told us that there were a group of guys and girls trying to enter our home through the backyard. She told us they had weapons, guns, and knives. I was only 7 and I knew what a gun was. My father used to own one, and he used to hide it under his bed, in DR. My mother had always been fearless, so she lifted up her mattress and took the gun, and said, “If they enter through the back door, I am not going to hesitate, I am going to shoot.” As she said this I went over to the window to check up on Clifford. There was a man with a black mask, pointing a gun at him. I was about to scream, but my mother had beaten me to the punch. She got a pair of cooking spoons and started hitting the metal window from the front of the house. She screamed, “There are robbers. There are robbers.” Waking up everyone. I saw how the lights went on in my neighbors home. I ran back to the window that gave me access to Clifford and I saw how the robbers ran away. Victory had taken us over that night.

Another dark night, I heard my mom screaming. I got off my bed and I asked her what happened. She told me that Clifford had escaped. We later found out that he almost bit someone. The thought of losing my dog because of “behavioral issues” had me worried the whole night.

January 20, 2009 came. This was the day I was officially moving to the United States. I was super excited to move. However, I was extremely sad because I was leaving my best friend, Emely. I couldn't bring Clifford along for the ride because he was too big, and we were moving to my grandma's house so there wasn’t any space. Plus he did not have papers.

As we were heading out of the neighborhood, Clifford was there staring at me. Deep down I knew he was saying, “How dare you leave me? Who’s going to take care of me now?” I kneeled beside him, crying, not ready to let go. As I pulled away I saw a tear running down his face. I know you might be thinking, do dogs cry? The answer is yes. I saw Clifford crying, I got up and gather my bags. As my family walked away from the alley I did not look back, because I knew that if I did I would've ran back to him.

Seven years ago, my family went to the Dominican Republic for vacation. You might be asking yourself, why haven’t you gone to visit your country. Well, I have decided to visit different places instead of D.R. D.R. will always be there. I want to travel the world. If I keep going to D.R. I am spending money, time, and resources going to the same place over and over again, when I could be meeting new cultures, places, and countries. I have gone to Canada, Arizona, Indiana, Miami and of course D.R. In my future blogs I would share my experiences in all these places as well as hundreds of pictures.

The first day I got to D.R., I went to go see Clifford. The worst thing you can imagine happened. He started to bark so furiously when he saw me. He didn’t recognize me. You do not know, you do not want to imagine how I felt. I was devastated. The fact that the dog that I grew up with, the one who I cared for, the one that loved me as much as I loved him, had forgotten about who I was, broke my heart. I tried talking to him, I looked him right at his eyes, to see if any spark remained, nothing. He kept barking. I had to walk away before my tears inundated my cheeks.

Time passed, and I found myself in my Manhattan couch. I had overheard my mother talking to my aunt, the one that used to take care of Clifford while we were living here. Turns out that she was going to give Clifford to a farm because she no longer had the resources to provide aid for him since he was extremely sick. My mother came into the living room, and I started crying. I didn’t want my dog, living with strangers. I cried and cried. I took my mom's phone and started sobbing to my aunt through it. I told her for the love of God to not give Clifford away. I told her what that dog meant to me. My mother and her came to an agreement on the Clifford situation. My mom agreed to send her more money for Clifford's treatments.

The clock danced some more until it came to a complete stop, for Clifford. You know that call you dread the rest of your life. That call that assures the worst news to a human being. That call that brings you sadness and grieve. I received that call. The only difference was that the death was no human, it was my companion, my heart, my baby dog. Writing this blog brings tears to my eyes. I still remember my aunt's voice through the phone, the sadness, the loneliness. Clifford had passed away. His bones were so fragile that they started to break. His body was not working as it used to. His digestive system had gone from eating rocks to eating grass. Till this day I hate myself for not being there for him, in his last days.

When I remember Clifford, I picture a beautiful, joyful, happy, smart, golden retriever. I used to come home happy every day from school because I knew I was going to see him and play with him. I give thanks to the Almighty because my childhood wouldn't be the same without Clifford. He taught me that life is short and that we have to enjoy it to the fullest every day. Clifford will forever hold a humongous part in my heart. He will forever be my baby dog. My number one.

Thank you for giving me the time of your day to read this piece. If you have any questions regarding life or food do not hesitate to ask me. If you have any suggestions please let me know. Remember I am not the best writer. If you do happen to find a grammar mistake on this piece, please email me.

---

Stay tuned for my next blog -> The Sport That Lives In Me <3

XOXO Yerika