Second Chance Idol, Week 5, Topic: Softness
A tale from when I was child. A tale of the most comfortable pillow I've ever laid my poofy-haired head on.
I wanted a puppy! A small, golden haired boy that would follow me around, pick up balls for me, and do what I told him to do before climbing into bed with me at night and laying on my feet. I knew what I had wanted, what I had imagined, and the thought thrilled me. Though my parents always said 'maybe' to my begging, I hadn't yet given up. I had inhereted a certain degree of hardheadedness from both sides, something they often scolded me for one moment and displayed themselves.
My father had been gone for about a week, across the country on business. I don't remember what he was really up to. Actually, I'm not even sure I knew then; I didn't really pay attention to what they really did when they weren't home. I remember, and I don't remember. It was a rainy October evening. A few days before my birthday? I don't recall that much. However, when he came home, he hadn't come alone, as expected. I expected my father, tall and strong to walk through the door dripping wet. That part was accurate.
What didn't quite mesh with my imaginings of near-future (Far-past now, but near-future then) events was attached to his arm was a leash, and attached to that leash was a white and brown, hundred-pound monster. I didn't even hug my father. "I SAID I WANTED A PUPPY!" I screamed before running off to my bedroom.
I was kind of a coward.
But could you blame me? I didn't know dogs even came in that size. All muscles and fur and fangs, he was giant, larger than I would ever be. I spent about the several months in terror of that creature, who was kept in the garage, since I wouldn't dare to bother coming out of my room if he was in the main house. It took time, but eventually I grew somewhat used to the presence of the gigantic animal in the house, though I never really came all that close to him. Eventually I wasn't really that scared, but I still acted the part.
Then he was stolen.
I don't remember much, but I'm told "I want my dog back!" I was very insistant, and we were getting ready to move, so we didn't have very much time to find him or else we would never see him again. Even though there were still small pangs of fear left over, the house felt terribly quiet and... empty without that massive beast.
We found him before we moved, though, and we moved to a house in another city. I'd only really made a couple friends where I was, so it wasn't as if I'd terribly lost a whole lot. I'd always kept to myself.
The last traces of my fear were erased on a warm summer day. He laid out in the backyard in the shade. The air was at least 80 degrees, and the humidity was low. I was comfortable. He was comfortable. Gingerly, I approached. He was a large animal. He was stronger than any human I'd met, able to drag my parents around like they were ragdolls whenever they took him for a walk, and able to tug anyone around if he got a little too playful when playing with rope. He was destructive. Any stuffed animal he got ahold of other than a single one of mine that I still slept with would be nothing but bits of cloth and stuffing within minutes.
His body held a great deal of power, and he held power. Could he be so soft? I gingerly laid down next to him, and put my head on his belly, using his form as a pillow. He tilted his head curiously before laying it back down. He was too big, too strong to ever sit in my lap, but in a way, I was in his lap, and he was the finest and most comfortable pillow I'd ever placed my head against, even to this date.
Dakota wasn't violent or firm or dangerous or hard at all. He was kind and gentle and warm... soft.
I wanted a puppy! A small, golden haired boy that would follow me around, pick up balls for me, and do what I told him to do before climbing into bed with me at night and laying on my feet. I knew what I had wanted, what I had imagined, and the thought thrilled me. Though my parents always said 'maybe' to my begging, I hadn't yet given up. I had inhereted a certain degree of hardheadedness from both sides, something they often scolded me for one moment and displayed themselves.
My father had been gone for about a week, across the country on business. I don't remember what he was really up to. Actually, I'm not even sure I knew then; I didn't really pay attention to what they really did when they weren't home. I remember, and I don't remember. It was a rainy October evening. A few days before my birthday? I don't recall that much. However, when he came home, he hadn't come alone, as expected. I expected my father, tall and strong to walk through the door dripping wet. That part was accurate.
What didn't quite mesh with my imaginings of near-future (Far-past now, but near-future then) events was attached to his arm was a leash, and attached to that leash was a white and brown, hundred-pound monster. I didn't even hug my father. "I SAID I WANTED A PUPPY!" I screamed before running off to my bedroom.
I was kind of a coward.
But could you blame me? I didn't know dogs even came in that size. All muscles and fur and fangs, he was giant, larger than I would ever be. I spent about the several months in terror of that creature, who was kept in the garage, since I wouldn't dare to bother coming out of my room if he was in the main house. It took time, but eventually I grew somewhat used to the presence of the gigantic animal in the house, though I never really came all that close to him. Eventually I wasn't really that scared, but I still acted the part.
Then he was stolen.
I don't remember much, but I'm told "I want my dog back!" I was very insistant, and we were getting ready to move, so we didn't have very much time to find him or else we would never see him again. Even though there were still small pangs of fear left over, the house felt terribly quiet and... empty without that massive beast.
We found him before we moved, though, and we moved to a house in another city. I'd only really made a couple friends where I was, so it wasn't as if I'd terribly lost a whole lot. I'd always kept to myself.
The last traces of my fear were erased on a warm summer day. He laid out in the backyard in the shade. The air was at least 80 degrees, and the humidity was low. I was comfortable. He was comfortable. Gingerly, I approached. He was a large animal. He was stronger than any human I'd met, able to drag my parents around like they were ragdolls whenever they took him for a walk, and able to tug anyone around if he got a little too playful when playing with rope. He was destructive. Any stuffed animal he got ahold of other than a single one of mine that I still slept with would be nothing but bits of cloth and stuffing within minutes.
His body held a great deal of power, and he held power. Could he be so soft? I gingerly laid down next to him, and put my head on his belly, using his form as a pillow. He tilted his head curiously before laying it back down. He was too big, too strong to ever sit in my lap, but in a way, I was in his lap, and he was the finest and most comfortable pillow I'd ever placed my head against, even to this date.
Dakota wasn't violent or firm or dangerous or hard at all. He was kind and gentle and warm... soft.