Teacher

I still remember the day I met you. We were both young, and neither of us understood much of what was happening. I was happy, though, for sure. You just seemed confused, happy as long as milk was being provided.
You slept in your little bed-box. Sometimes you climbed out too. You got my little pink stuffed elephant because Mummy said you felt lonely sleeping all alone at night. I remember how much it would stink later on! I didn’t mind though, even when you tore it to pieces. I liked you, you see. Even when you chewed up all our dolls and slippers, even when Papa was so angry at you because you tore his uniform. Even when you peed on me when I was showing you off to my friend, I still liked you.
I also remember the day you bit me. And I had to get a shot. Well, I guess there was a day I didn’t like you.
And then you grew!! You were bigger than me for a while, and wouldn’t fit in my arms! And you yelled at everyone! Even when one of us came home, you would run and slide and bark at the door mad as a dog! Not much with Papa though, you’d sit staring at the door, ears cocked, waiting to jump on him as soon as he comes home.
You loved us so much, even when we took you to the vet, even when we gave you a bath knowing fully well how much you disliked it. Even when we all ate a yummy dinner and forgot to give you your share. You jumped and wagged and loved. As if that’s all you knew how to do.
And then I grew up, and you could fit into my arms again. Now you’re old. And your doctor says we should feel lucky to still have you around. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve always known how lucky I was... am. I loved coming home to you. I loved holding you when you came into my room at 2am, shaking from the noise of the firecrackers.
I know your eyes don’t work so well now, and your ears don’t always hear when they should. Though I know you’ll never read this or hear me say it, I know you know how I feel. Because you know Love. You should, you taught me how to.