A Girl and Her Dog: Growing Up With Taffy

She was a fluffy red-head looking for excitement. She was a fluffy red-head looking for excitement. From the start, Taffy's wanderlust drove terror into the eyes of neighbors and parents. This did not matter to me, Taffy was my pride. Looking back on her life, I realize Taffy has outlived my childhood and has almost outlived my youth. She has been a fixture in my life. At sixteen, she will soon be a memory. Taffy's first gift to me was a wet spot on my mattress. She had broken through the barriers of her doggy fence to find her sister's room. It was not the last fence she would jump... Taffy could easily leap our wooden gate and when we moved, she found our new six foot stone wall equally undaunting. It was not long before the new neighborhood became her backyard. Taffy was a gallivanter, leading the local dogs about town. She raced past gardeners and mailmen. Our angry neighbor threatened to shoot Taffy with his shotgun, but a need to roam filled her soul. It was easy to love Taffy despite her visible short-comings. She was not just any dog, she was the underdog. Despite my father's attempts to return Taffy, she stayed with us. My brother and I defended her troubled past. When this failed, Mom hid the dog in a kennel until Dad could be persuaded. Taffy's safety was finally assured by the unfortunate divorce of my parents. Taffy endeared herself to us with her irreverence and her willfulness. After one of her frequent outings, she would return home, ready to be greeted with affection and a bowl of Purina. To keep her from escaping, we chained her to a tree with a six foot long metal leash. Taffy still managed to escape, leash and all. Late that night, she dragged herself home, chain still attached. After surviving numerous cat and dog fights, several bee-stings, and a minor collision with an automobile, it became apparent that Taffy was a survivor. My dog came to represent the only constant throughout my childhood. My family's structure would change, as would my house, and many of my friends. But Taffy remained faithful, always waiting for me when I returned home. She was there for my first day at a new school and for all my birthday parties. In high school, I could count on Taffy to greet my dates at the front door and to wait by the window for my return. At sixteen, Taffy still waits at home for my return from college. She is no longer the terror that she once was. Her walk is slow, her hearing is completely gone. An open door no longer tempts her; once it would have meant a chance to race wildly down the block. It is up to me to take care of her now. Like an old person, she needs to be helped up the steps. Cortisone pills keep her back legs from drooping too severely. She sleeps most of the day. My fearless puppy is dying before my eyes... Taffy's aging is a painful reminder that a phase in my own life has ended. I will not often have the time for summer walks with my dog during long vacations. Home will not be my parents' house for much longer. After all, a grown woman cannot pretend that her life has not changed, that her responsibilities are not larger and different from what they once were. She cannot pretend that her childhood companion will be around forever. Taffy has given me her whole life and all her love. It seems unfair that her life will only last through a part of mine. She will always and only be a memory of my youth. I hope it is enough for her to have a special place in my heart. (...Taffy met her final challenge last month when an earthquake jolted Los Angeles. Tragically, bricks from a neighbors chimney crushed her. She didn't die right away, we had to put her to sleep the next day. Elizabeth Kopple is a senior European History major. She is a former Daily Pennsylvanian Production Manager.