I Don't Deserve My Best Friend

I got Memphis in the early summer of 2014, when I was just nineteen. He was just a tiny, nine week old puppy. My father and his girlfriend insisted that getting Memphis was a mistake. My great grandparents were from the old country, and didn't understand the point of owning a dog. Where they were from, dogs were strays and nothing more. Memphis was so much more than that.

When I got Memphis my life fell apart. I had accepted a position at a grooming salon when I first saw Memphis at a mere two weeks old. I was in love with my job, it was a dream career. I only worked as a bather and dryer, but I knew if I worked hard enough I could be taught to groom. It's what I wanted, more than anything, and still want to this day. Unfortunately, right after I got Memphis, my boss let me go and told me I wasn't passionate enough. Realistically I had only been there for a few weeks and had received minimal training, but I was still heartbroken. I was forced to take a fulltime job at McDonald's to afford the apartment I had just gotten. The stress of losing my job and moving out on my own for the first time also caused me to break up with my boyfriend of a little over two years.

Nothing was more rewarding to me, however, than coming home from working ten hours at McDonald's being screamed at by a savage manager to training my dog for hours on end. I'm not kidding. Each day, I saw how much progress I was making. My dog was only a few months old and he was hitting the wheelchair accessible button to open doors for the elderly people in my building. I worked hard to mould Memphis into my dream dog. He is so well-trained to this day I can leave a full pizza next to him on the couch, drive to the store, and come back to my pizza being untouched.

I spent nearly the entirety of Memphis's life in a horrible, toxic relationship. We were volatile. He was abusive—financially, mentally, and even physically. After everything that man did to me, Memphis was always there for me. When I was being beat and called my father screaming for help, my dad simply asked: "What do you want me to do about it?" Memphis, however, brought me his favourite toy and pushed his head into my lap. He stared up at me with big brown eyes and tried to absorb my pain through touch as I stroked his ears.

That relationship continued for years. Eventually, the beatings would turn on the dogs as well. I would always get in the way. It got so bad that as soon as my boyfriend would walk into the room, Memphis would seek me out and stand behind me. He understood that I was there to protect him just as much as he was there to protect me. Even then, that wasn't what made me change my outlook on life.

What Memphis did to make me change my outlook on life forever in the three short years we've had together happened after I left my abusive ex-boyfriend. That man had broken me down. I hated myself. Every single time I checked my bank account, I was reminded of how much debt he had put me in. If anyone reached out to touch me, I would flinch and then profusely apologize when they looked so offended. My anxiety that had been looming behind me all my life was more apparent than ever, so much so that I couldn't even go to a store for chips by myself.

I hated that man with a passion. I wanted revenge for a very long time. I wished that somebody would break his heart and I wished that somebody would do all those horrible things to him instead. I was condemned to a life of sleeping on couches and working horrible jobs to make ends meet, but I never gave up on the one that meant the most to me—Memphis. Each night I lay on the couch with him on my chest, and stewed about how horrible my life was. I blamed my ex for all the trauma that was done to me.

Memphis laid so still, staring into my eyes. He stuck his tongue out and pushed it to my nose before letting a yawn escape from his jowls. He nestled his head back down on me, and closed his eyes. I felt the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed so peacefully on top of me on that disgusting, dated couch. He was without a care in the world. It didn't matter to him, where we had been. He didn't stay up all night and mourn his former life.

He lived in the now, and he was just happy to be there, with me. We were alive and he trusted me, the only two things he could really ask for—except for maybe a chunk of my steak. He didn't want to seek revenge. He didn't spend hours crying for a man who never loved me. He spent those hours with his head on my lap, offering me a gentle tail wag as he tried to lick away my tears.

Memphis is so full of life. He is smart. He is eager. I'd dare say he is even confident at times, despite the horrors we have faced together. And for as long as he has me, Memphis will always be that way. He is filled with a kind of compassion this world has forgotten long ago. I aspire to be like my dog, as odd as that sounds.

I now want to be like Memphis. I want to be positive. I want to be confident. I want to live in the now and let go of all the demons in the past. I don't want to seek revenge on those who wrong me, I want to seek solutions to stop me from hurting in the future. I want a better life, for me and my best friend, Memphis. He is too good to even walk the same earth as humans.