"Do you, Brooke take this dog as your husband and your closest friend, and do you agree to be fully committed to the sanctity of this marriage for as long as you both shall live?"
Ever since I was little, this was my dream. If I could just marry my dog I knew all my troubles would end. Of course, I was 5 and my troubles extended to going to bed at 7pm. But, nevertheless, I knew what I wanted out of my future. In fact, it was just last week I was sitting in my cubicle thinking, "Wow, I should probably stop planning my dream wedding with my dog and start looking for someone with only 2 legs."
Why did I love this furry creature so much? Maybe it was because he was the only who listened to me? Maybe it was because he was the only one who I could torture and still love me? Or maybe, it was because my mom was more obsessed with him then she was with me and I am my mothers daughter.
To clarify, this was my dog Sylvester. The dog I had after Chloe, who was with me throughout my parents divorce. We moved from Annapolis to Columbia in what seemed like a hot minute. Everything was happening so fast but there was Sylvester to reassure me that everything was alright. I actually felt bad for Sylvester because my sister and I got to see our dad every other weekend but Sylvester just stayed home. They decided not to share custody of him. I think it was because my sister and I were gone so much that my mom became obsessed with the dog.
When I sleep, I spread out all over the bed, kicking anyone whose in the bed with me. For this reason, my mom never let me sleep in her bed. No matter how many nightmares I had or how scared I was because I thought someone was in the house, she wouldn't budge. Yet, every morning before school I'd walk into my mom's room and there was Sylvester sprawled out on her bed, leaving a little corner for my mom! I would get angry with my mom but never at Sylvester . It was so hard to be upset with his cute little face looking at me and his body scrunched together like a little stuffed animal. Did I mention I wanted to marry him?
So as Sylvester aged, he developed arthritis. At this point in my life, I was a freshman in high school, Rachel a freshman in college, and my mother worked in Fallston and wouldn't get home until late. It was just Sylvester and me. We never had food in our house. Ever. But that was probably my fault since my mom would give me money to go to the store and I would spend it on clothes. But, I'd always manage to scrummage something together. When Sylvester got sick he started throwing up his dog food and couldn't move. Most pet-owner would be upset but know that it is time to put the dog down...but not my mom.
Another note, as much as I write about how goofy my mom was/is, she has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She didn't put Sylvester down to rest at first because she knew it wasn't his time yet--and she was right.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh right, so I can remember maybe 3 times my mom cooked dinner for me (which is okay because my Dad made dinner every night). But when Sylvester got sick, she was home every night at 6pm making him stir fried chicken and rice....and still me, nothing. Most kids would be resentful and hate the dog or their mother for this kind of treatment. But I had more important concerns to worry about. I had to figure out what to do about the wedding once Sylvester died. Who was going to be my dog-groom?
We eventually put Sylvester down in January 2004. Don't think I didn't wonder if it was more weird to marry a dead dog than a live one. But in the end, I accepted that he was gone and looked forward to the challenge of being alone for a while.
That is, until the next week when my mom got Malcolm.
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