Old Yellow
I never understood why he decided to choose me over the other ones. I’ve always wondered what stood out about me that separated me from the rest of the pack. Time and time again only small glances would fall on me, before their attention would be diverted and I would no longer be considered, or even given a second thought. Words like worthless, scraggly, useless, and runt were the only words I thought would ever be associated with me. Day after day my brothers and sisters would be chosen over me, and day after day my hopes of being the next to leave slowly disappeared. Until one day, when a little boy, cradling a brand new tennis ball, came and crouched down right in front of me. Eyes locked, we sat there; me waiting for him to decide to not want me and him deciding if I wanted him. For what seemed like an eternity we sat, neither one moving, until the little boy’s face formed into a big, toothless grin. The boy then rolled the tennis ball with both hands gently over to me and waited for my reaction. With the ball right in front of my paws, I knew in that moment, that I had found my new home.
From that day forward, every step that the little boy took, I took with him. He didn’t seem to have a set home, but instead moved from house to house, and even sometimes, woods to woods. But I didn’t mind, the only thing I have ever cared about is the little boy. He never went anywhere I wasn’t allowed, and if I couldn’t come with, he wouldn’t go. We spent our days going on adventures; creating new paths in the forest, hunting squirrels, and anytime we discovered an open field he would throw that same yellow tennis ball as far as he could, and I would retrieve it and bring it back. Nights were spent sleeping anywhere that wasn’t wet and hopefully, for the little boy’s sake, had a roof. Nights that were cold enough to see your own breathe, I would be the boy’s blanket and the boy would be my bed. To the two of us, the world was one big playground; which had no limitations except for the little boy’s imagination.
Time has moved on, and the little boy isn’t such a little boy anymore. Instead, he has grown to become a teenager now and a family was nice enough to take us both in as their own. We have both aged, both become larger, but it seems as if my time is coming to a quicker end than it is for the boy. It’s harder now for me to keep up, I can no longer chase after the yellow tennis ball or run after squirrels. Instead I spend my days in the boy’s lap, keeping him warm and enjoying the chewiness of the yellow ball.
I am no longer able to stand and instead spend my days laying on the floor in pain, but I hide this for the boy’s sake. I know my time is coming soon, but I am unsure of how soon. Today we are going on a car ride and I must be carried into the car, but it doesn’t matter, car rides have always been enjoyable for the both of us. But today seems different, the boy isn’t singing along to the songs or bobbing his head to the music, instead he is quiet, and just softly runs his hand through my fur. When we have reached our destination the boy carries me inside, pushing through multiple metal doors, and lays me down on a silver table. I can sense the boy’s thoughts, and I know this is it. The boy stays right next to me, water in his eyes. I attempt to lick the tears from his face, but I am in too much pain to move that far. I am not sad for myself, but instead for the boy. The boy who gave me a chance, gave me a home, and gave me love. As my eyes start to feel heavy and my surroundings start to blur, my last image is of the yellow tennis ball between my paws.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by an old, torn up tennis ball I had found outside.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by an old, torn up tennis ball I had found outside.
