PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My grandmother had a dog; it was a mix of a Maltese and a Poodle. As a kid I cared not about its race, as a teenager I cared less, and now as an adult I wish I cared. Days at my grandmother’s house tended to be long and boring, even with a cousin about my age the days passed unhurried. Since I was a kid she was over 70 years old, but her dog, oh her dog even as old as can be kept acting like a puppy. It made the house seem lively, energetic and youthful even though it was full of old people. Its name was “Nana”. The years passed but the memories of my cousin and I playing with Nana stayed. The days seemed shorter, interesting and we actually did something besides being in front of the T.V. the whole day. Fetch, thug of war, Simon says, we tried them all. Yes, we were kids and no, we were not good at teaching a dog how to behave or how to do things, but it seemed fun anyway. Sometimes by pure coincidence Nana made the things we asked her to do, so into the kitchen we went to tell my grandma that we taught the dog how to make a trick. I remember my cousin and I being really small when I was at a young age so Nana didn’t seem that big to us. As far as I can remember Nana wasn’t just a pet, an animal, we didn’t even see it as a toy. Nana was like one of us. She was just different. Thus, I’ll call Nana “her” and not “it” in memory of the dog that was the lively spirit of the house. Time passes by and we can’t stop it as if we may not. Nana grew older, and as time grew on us her strength diminished, and with it the colors of the house. Even today as she is gone into a better place, every time a similar dog passes through the rear of my eyesight I remember those bright moments at my grandmother’s house, how she was more active rather than at bed the whole time, how my family was even more united since Nana was all over the place. Now as bad as it may sound the spark of life and color that house had went away with her.