I never wanted a dog. The day the rest of my family went to collect Macy I threw something of a tantrum and sulked with friends. I was convinced we’d become ‘doggy people’ – the sort of house where visitors find stray hairs in their soup and the smell of wet dog hits you like a slap on the side of the head when you walk through the door. No – it just wasn’t for me.
She turned up wrapped in a baby pink towel, the size of my sister’s hand; a tiny white ball of fluff making strange noises. I eyed her warily. I tried my very, absolute hardest not to get too involved, and I succeeded. For all of five minutes.
From that day onwards Macy became my best friend. I can’t tell you how or when it happened – I had to let my guard down eventually and I suppose that when I did she pounced. I appreciate that for many of you I will sound like a lunatic, lacking in social interaction and in need of a wider friendship network… but there it is.
I used to wonder how people could get so attached to animals – a pet is a pet, when they die you just buy another one, right? Or so I thought eight years ago. As it goes now, I’m trying my upmost to refrain from assaulting the next person who makes such a statement.
Macy had a personality. I was always surprised at how people reacted towards her once they really got to know her. Once they’d gotten past her penchant for pigeons, her casual racism and insatiable appetite, the way she’d bark incessantly at the television just as your favourite programme was about to begin, the fact that she would demand a sleepover every time I was home and would wait until everyone was about to fall asleep to take over the entire bed, or even the way she would get jealous and scratch at the legs of anyone who ever tried to show me any sign of affection. Many previous boyfriends bear the scars to prove it.
Once you really got to know her you’d see how she loved unconditionally and never judged, licked my tears when I cried (okay so she liked the taste of salt, but still), and made every bad situation I’ve gone through in the last eight years that little bit easier to handle simply by walking with me.
Making the decision to let her go and saying goodbye yesterday was the most horrible thing I’ve ever had to do. So whilst I might usually write about fashion and clothes and all of the style related things I’m ultimately obsessed with, I couldn’t let this day go past without saying something about a little dog who made me very, very happy. In my next post no doubt I’ll be back to gushing over shoes and my latest market bargain, but for now, I wanted to tell everyone how much I loved Macy. Because she deserved that much.