My little companion turns seven today. It’s hard to believe it has been so long. We met in Louisiana when she weighed hardly more than one pound. I can still remember how she ran in little circles when I walked up to her kennel. When I put her in my lap she climbed up my sweater and licked my neck–puppy kisses with a paper-thin tongue. The first time I held her up to a mirror she growled–a very high-pitched sort of growl that only a ball of fluff can produce–at her own reflection.
When we lived in California and I worked long days, she welcomed me home with a wagging tail. When it was time for law school, she supervised our drive out to Texas from the passenger seat and we experienced our first Texas thunderstorm en route on the 10. She kept me company when I was lonely. She cheered me up when I was sad. She snuggled with me when my heart was broken.
Over the last four years she has watched me study for endless hours, staring at me intently with big brown eyes. She has barked at me in the morning when I’ve slept through my alarm. She has channeled my emotions (remember when she threw up all over the apartment the morning of my first 1L final exam?). She has pawed at my laptop keyboard when it was time for me to take a break. And, this summer, she sat in my lap and watched hours of bar review lectures.
Sure, she is a yippie three pounds of poodle. But every day when I get home she bounds towards the front door wagging her little tail. When I pick her up she rests her head in the space between my neck and shoulder and lets out a little sigh, as if to remind me that happiness is simple.
Happy birthday Little C.
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