My Only Regret in Life... Ever

To this very day this is the ONLY thing that haunts me.

Growing up I had many a pet, ranging from dogs to bunnies to snakes to birds to fish to ferrets, and I love each and every one very much. But my doggies were always my favorites. Puerto Rico has many a stray and my family and I adopted as many as we could during my years growing up on the island.

The first was Jackie (I named her after my best friend), a stray whom approached me on my neighborhood street one afternoon when I was in second grade and proceeded to follow me home at the end of the night. The next morning when my dad drove me to school she chased after the car for nearly five blocks before my dad pulled over and let her in the car. She was with us ever since.

Jackie was the sweetest, smartest dog I think I've ever met 'til this very day. My family and I were absolutely crazy about her. One day, after two years with our family, she passed away as a result of what I believe was an unborn puppy. She'd just given birth a week before to a single pup on Halloween.

(Sadly, my family and I were unaware of her pregnancy and never got an ultrasound. The smaller the litter, the greater the chance of the puppies being too big for the mother to give birth to them.)

Although we were sad to say goodbye to our dearest family member, we were blessed with her baby and raised her as our very own. Pooch, a Beagle mix, was the most tender dog I think we've ever had. She never harmed a fly.... Nor our rabbit (who was never kept in a cage), nor our ferrets.

Pooch went on to give me the greatest birthday present ever, when she gave birth to a litter of puppies on my 11th birthday. She was so terrified of the experience that she ran from her litter and quivered in a corner while I wearily released them from their sacks at the advice of her vet.

She had seven puppies or so, and all were absolutely adorable. My father requested for me to pick out the strongest one of the litter so he could take it home with him. (My parents are divorced.) In the end i picked one of the last ones born, one of the biggest of the litter who constantly pushed his siblings aside trying to drink from his mother.

My father took Patches home with him, and while he may not have turned out to be the best guard dog, he was the perfect family dog. Patches played with my little brother (around four at the time) with nothing but love and care.

Eventually I moved to The States to go to college and- sadly - my father, too, left Puerto Rico. Unaware of what the future held for him and his family in a new environment, my father reluctantly found Patches a home in Puerto Rico. He said he couldn't take Patches with him.

The only catch was they left before the new home was available, and it was I that was to turn him over to his new family. When I went to take him to his new family they told me they couldn't take him anymore and they were sorry. So I took him home to my mom's and for a week tried to find him a loving home before I headed back to Florida at the end of my summer break.

It's amazing... I couldn't find one single home. I secretly resented my friends with extensive plots of land for not saving my beloved baby who I literally helped bring into this world. When I phoned my father and explained to him the situation he told me what had to be done.

My mother and I then drove back to my father's old place of residence with Patches in tow and did the worst thing I have ever ever ever ever EVER done. I left him. My baby. I literally got out of the car, said goodbye, and got in the car to drive away.

According to my father the neighbor's across the street were always fond of Patches and maybe they would give him a happy home.

As my mother and I drove away, down the hill, I saw Patches in the rear-view mirror running after our car , all the while crying out to us. The sky was overcast and as it began to rain I swear my heart broke into a million little pieces with every tear that I shed.