C is for Chloe

I am participating in the Blogging A-Z April Challenge, a challenge where bloggers write about a topic associated with a certain letter each day. Today is the third day of the challenge and the letter is C.

A year ago my boyfriend brought home a small black dog that he rescued from his father's house. His father had an uncanny knack for acquiring dogs that he wouldn't really take care of. He would lock them up with cats in cluttered rooms, or in a yard where they would escape. Eventually my boyfriend would bring the dogs over to his house to take care of.

In the backyard of my boyfriend's house there was already a large great dane that he had rescued from his father. There was also an old yellow chihuahua. And a young female boxer. And then one day a little black dog named Baby showed up. I was irate.

I yelled, whined and stomped my feet. "Your father is so irresponsible!" I complained. "I'm tired of him getting dogs and not taking care of them. That dog needs to go!" I demanded.

"He bought the dog for my niece," he explained. "It won't be here for very long".

I hated little Baby. For the first couple of days and nights she barked incessantly and I wanted to rip my hair out. I plotted and planned that I was going to give her away to people at work and tell my boyfriend's father that she had ran away. One sleep-deprived evening I even lay on the couch and thought about killing her if she wouldn't stop barking.

At the time I had recently lost two of my dogs that I had owned for twelve years. Within a four month period they both got sick and died, one basically getting sick as soon as the other died. I was absolutely heartbroken. I just couldn't find it in myself to bond with any of the four dogs in the backyard, although I had agreed to adopt the Boxer. I didn't pay any of them much attention.

One day I brought the Boxer and the little black dog home to my house. I stayed alone with them for about three weeks without taking them to my boyfriend's house because the little black dog Baby was in heat. Days passed and suddenly Baby started to crawl into my bed and snuggle with me at night. And then suddenly I decided to rename her Chloe.

Now I am really starting to love Chloe. I can still feel myself being detached from her because I am afraid to have my heart broken over a dog again. But each night that she crawls into my bed to sleep at my feet, I get a warm fuzzy feeling of love all over again. Hopefully one day Chloe will mend my broken heart.