Memories of Pets Past

Simba

     I was almost three years old. My parents had a house full of kids (my older half siblings), and what do kids typically want more than anything? A puppy. So the search began.

     Apparently, Mom and Dad found an article in the newspaper: "Golden Retriever Puppies for Sale." Since Goldens are well-known for being great family dogs, it seemed perfect! They contacted the seller, and went to meet their new six-week-old bundle of joy. They brought home Simba, so-named after the 'mane' character in the newest Disney film at the time, "The Lion King." (See what I did there?)

     I wish that I actually remembered this beautiful creature! All I have to go on are the home videos we have of him, and what my parents have told me about him. But from all angles, it sounds like he would have been the perfect pet to grow up with.

     We got Simba in the winter. We didn't plan on keeping him as an indoor pet (my mom wasn't raised to have animals in the house), but he was so little and helpless, and it was so cold outside, that we kept him in our laundry room until the weather got warmer. It was a large, concrete room with a glass door so that we could peek in and see how he was doing, and occasionally let him into the rest of the house without having to worry about dirt or bugs coming off of him.

     For the first week, he was so calm and sweet. He would just lay next to me as my tiny, chubby fingers stroked his fluffy fur. We even have a video of me pushing him around our house in my pink, toy baby stroller (I also stuffed him in my toy oven, but hey, kids will be kids). But as he began to grow and get used to his surroundings, he became more playful and rambunctious.

     Currently, I love Golden Retrievers. I love their sweet nature, their loyalty, their playful energy. But to a toddler, that natural puppy personality can be quite overwhelming. Especially as he grew bigger and bigger, very quickly. He outgrew me, and even once we put him outside in our fenced-in backyard, I became afraid of him. I switched from calling him "Puppy" to calling him "Monster."

     As evidence of this, we have a home video of Simba and me in the backyard. He wasn't very big yet, but he kept trying to play with me and chase me —especially when I ran. Oh, how excited he got when my short child legs would wobble away to seek safety from 'the Monster'! I attempted to climb up to the top of my jungle gym, but before I could he grabbed the bottom of my pant leg and began to pull. I screamed and screamed, like I was being attacked by an alligator instead of an adorable fluffball.

     I guess it reached a point where I couldn't even go outside without Simba knocking me over. Not in a mean way, obviously. He was just a lot bigger than me, and he wanted to play. But I didn't see it that way. We didn't even have him a full year before my parents decided to get rid of him, for my peace of mind. Nowadays I tell my parents, "I would have eventually grown up! I would have learned to love him!" But what's done is done, and cannot be changed.

     My parents found a lady who lived on a big farm. She had had Goldens before, and loved them more than any breed of dog. She was more than thrilled to take Simba! She said that he would sleep inside with her, at the foot of her bed, and during the day he would have the whole farm to run around on to his heart's content, chasing and irritating the other animals as much as he pleased. Last we heard, he lived a full, long life. Now, I know this sounds like a huge fabrication that parents tell their kids just so they don't feel bad for the animal or learn the truth of what really happened to it. But I have continuously pressed this issue with my parents over the years, and they swear that it's the truth. And I believe them.

     Yes, I wish that Simba had lived to a ripe old age with us instead of a stranger. But no matter what happened to him after he parted ways from us, he will always have the honor of being named my first dog ever.