I was born in a house, I recall, with four brothers and sisters. The house was warm and sweet smelling, like something cooking on a stove. I remember snuggling in a basket in front of a fire, and everything was glowing and happy. I was happy. I knew no sadness when I was born, but I was bound to later. No, this story begins before tragedy happened, before anything happened.
I recall that I lived in a house with two children; both annoying little girls that pulled at our tails and ears and forced us to play with them when we just wanted to sleep, and the parents; Jen and Mark, would just laugh. They named me Golden, and the others were Flower, Checkers, Pepper, and Lucky, and Lucky was my best friend. But Lucky was the only other puppy in the litter I knew, so I soon forgot my other siblings, who are probably in some happy home with a couch and two perfect kids and a tree with a tire swing in the front, they never knew sadness, though. I forgot them all, and on purpous, too.
But my mother's name I'll never forget...Julia.
