Perhaps it was an illusion. Perhaps not. Something about furry creatures symbolized all of my youthful enthusiasm.
There were four roly-poly puppies. Three black and one brown. Born into our family. They were magical. Their sharp little puppy teeth nibbled at my childish hands. To inhale their sweet smells was to drink in a concoction of sugar dust and ocean spray. To roll with them, giggling and conspiring, was to know joy.
One day they escaped from their confines to race, unbidden, down the hall.
But the sweetest memory of all was a puppy, too tired from play, falling asleep on my chest. Innocence slumbering on innocence.
Is it any wonder that my childhood ambition was to be a veterinarian?
(Later all that would change ad the puppies would be sold.)
(Later all that would change ad the puppies would be sold.)
But for the moment...they gave sweet love, uncomplicated and pure.
And for a fleeting time, precious puppy kisses.
