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Remembering my first pet

When I was five years old, a dog bit my face. It was an aunt's dog and I always played with that dog, but that day, it was eating one of my toys and I took it away and the dog jumped on me. Thank God the bite was not serious, but that event not only changed the way I related to animals, but also the way my family would deal with pets in the house.

At home there were always pets, but small ones, especially fish and birds, with which we did not have much contact, only when we were going to put the food. However, among the birds there were parakeets, to which we taught to repeat words and to which we put our finger to put there.

But when I turned 15, a boy who was in love with me, gave me a rabbit. It was a small gray rabbit, which I named Candy. The purpose of that gift, as this boy confessed to me, was for that pet to unite us, to be like a son between the two of us and that with the excuse of seeing him daily and asking for him, he could visit me at my house.

My birthday was December 20th and by the 21st, Candy not only had a house, which we made out of cardboard and fabric, but also a series of colorful ribbons that I had bought to match my daily outfits. And although at first my parents were reluctant to have a pet rabbit, I convinced them to let me keep it at home.

Among the conditions my parents set out to accept Candy was that I would notice her. So I brought Candy's house for my room and her food. It was the rabbit who woke me up every day, because he would jump into my bed, there I would play with him for a while, and after returning from school, I would take him for a walk. I would put a ribbon around his neck and walk around the block with my rabbit in my arms. There was always someone who wanted to touch him or hold him.

On December 28, Rommel, the boy who had given me the rabbit, came to my house and we sat in the garden talking, listening to music, while the rabbit hopped around us. It was night and although we were watching Candy, we didn't see what she was eating. We thought that as long as she didn't go outside and stayed in the garden, she could be safe.

We made a big mistake. That night, after Rommel left, I took Candy to her little house and went to sleep. The next day, I was surprised because Candy had not jumped into my bed, so I went to look for her in her cottage and she was dead. She had purged or poisoned herself with a plant and we didn't notice. I remember that I screamed in pain and my parents were very scared, believing the worst. When they saw Candy's little body, they were the ones who diagnosed a poisoning with a plant from the garden. I could not believe it, I was so traumatized: my first pet had only lasted me 8 days, but that atrocious memory would last me all my life.

Over the years, I have discovered many children's books that serve to make the experience of death less traumatic for a child. One of the things I remember most about that first pet was the despair at his death. That December morning, I can say with certainty, prepared me for another death: that of July 4, seven months after Candy's death, when the news came that my grandmother had passed away.