Season of Change

Being the youngest of three children meant eventually being an only child. I craved a

fresh start, new responsibility, and company. I told my parents I wanted to raise my own

companion. They chuckled at the cliche idea for an adolescent to train a youthful disobedient

puppy. Dare I take on a challenge in the middle of a busy semester, it did not compress my

confidence of abilities. I had envisioned a Dorothy and Toto relationship with Bostyn. Instead, I

felt like the Wicked Witch of the West, but I yearned that one day our bond would take an

alternative path.

It seemed as though the only thing to keep me sane was change, but it turned out that

change was what challenged me most. After consecutive days of overwhelming agony, I realized

that it was not the puppy's failure to complete a task, but something lacking in me. Every day

was a gamble whether I could perceive the fact that my puppy was not malicious. Being

committed to a challenge was the easy part; learning to balance long hours of school and dance

with a puppy was the challenge I had to adapt to.

Failure to train a deranged animal would reflect right back on me. I feared being the

family’s latest gossip, and I didn’t have time to fear failure. I gave up weekends with my friends

to make sure my puppy had the ability to adapt and build a relationship with me. It was a choice

I did not have to make, but made it very distinct to everyone that I was engrossed with training

Bostyn. I created the time I thought I didn’t have.

Near meltdown, I couldn’t figure out why raising this puppy was so daunting. It felt like

my life had been put on hold. For me, owning my own dog was a chance to redesign my label as
the youngest child stereotype; the one that adulterates every situation. After a few weeks of

nonstop rest, my mom faced me with a choice. She explained that it was not too late to lend him

back to his original owner.

I immediately denied the thought of giving my loving, energetic monster away. My

tendency to push the boundaries until I succeed stuck with me. I accepted that this was a test of

my character. Raising Bostyn was a labor of love, and far more important than proving my

worth. Knowing what could’ve been taken away from me only made me work harder in every

aspect. Even on the most agonizing days I saw the joy Bostyn brought, instead of the hinder to

my life. It took patience and positive reinforcement to change the mammal that I always put first

in my heart no matter the circumstance. My passion and drive to care for him grew, as did the

heartwarming love that he provided me.

Caring for Bostyn was strenuous work for many months that eventually blossomed into

meaningful work. His energy not only boosted mine, but his need and willingness to love helped

me mature. I realized no matter how many tricks I taught him, he taught me valuable life lessons.

I look back with pride that I never gave up loving him. Our relationship is even stronger than the

bond I had once desired. I learned that my idea of raising my own companion was only one event

that pushed me to mature. I am not fearful of greater challenges to come.