My Blackson

     

“Blackson was like a sister and a friend to me. We accompanied each other growing up. She was very special to me and she saved me when I was in danger. She was always there for me and she waited for me to come all the time, but I left her to another place. Gradually, I forgot those days.


It all began in 2002. I was watching TV when my uncle came to my house. He carried a mysterious box that had something inside and that something made a sound. It sounded like a puppy. I was eight years old and like everybody else, I was very curious. I asked my uncle what was inside. I was so curious about what was inside that I didn't even wait for him to finish answering my question. As soon as I heard it was for my family, I rapidly took over the box. What I saw was a black puppy. I was hysterical. I cannot remember anything else that happened that day because I could only focus on the little black puppy.


I remember my father telling me the story behind her. My uncle had a dog in his store. One day a small black puppy appeared. My uncle saw her hiding in the grass and gazing at his dog’s food. My uncle gave her some food to eat, but then she ran away when she finished the food. The next day she came again and still did the same thing. So my uncle caught her.


After my uncle gave her to me I named her “Little Blackson”. I loved to spend time with her. When I came home from school, the first thing on my list was to go to her room and take a walk with her. I was ecstatic about it.

 Two years later, she grew so fast that she was bigger than me.  Indeed, if she could stand on two legs, she would be taller than me. I realized something else was different about her from the rest of the dogs in my village. It was color. Little Blackson has black hair on her back and brown hair on the belly side. It was totally different than other dogs in my village. Once I asked my teacher about my Little Blackson. She told me she is a wolf dog (German Shepherd).  I didn't hear the word after wolf, so I kept thinking my Little Blackson was a wolf for a long time until I told my brother-in-law. He laughed at me and explained to me my perception was wrong. I didn't listen to him at all and I thought he was just envious of me and my Little Blackson. But after many years when I was older, I realized I was wrong.


The older I got, the less time I had to spend with her. I barely saw her or took a walk with her. I remember a time I was out with her. Suddenly, there were 4 dogs attacking me. I stood still, thinking if I moved they would chase after me and bite me. A few seconds passed and my Little Blackson ran back, she had heard the four dogs’ barks. She didn't bark, she just bit them. Because my Little Blackson was so huge, all the dogs rapidly ran away. After that, I stopped calling her Little Blackson, I called her Blackson.


In 2009, I left my country for the U.S., but I didn't bring Blackson with me. I miss her and I don’t dare to look into other dogs’ eyes because their eyes are so pure that it reminds me of her. Sometimes when I am recalling my past, I can always see those images in my head. She was unique and nothing can replace the moments that I spent with her. Those moments with her are tar in my brain.