Coming of Age Story: The Death of My Dog

     Something shifted in the quiet peace of the night, breaking the normal routine. Tokyo, the beloved Siberian Husky, suffered a sudden weakness that left him defenseless and shaking with terror. My parents and I were called to his pain, and we were all crying as we tried to process the abrupt change in circumstances. Our hearts full with fear, we raced from Tokyo to the veterinarian deep on Long Island, holding onto hope despite the dark clouds of doubt.

     As we arrived at the veterinarian clinic, Tokyo's condition became extremely clear.  His paralysis was too severe to offer any hope of recovery, therefore the prognosis was grave. Our options narrowed as we faced the difficult decisions that lay ahead: expensive procedures with very little chance of recovery, or the heartbreaking choice to let him go. Every possibility was a sobering reminder of both the fleeting nature of life and the intensity of our affection for our beloved friend. Taking the car journey home on the way back. We're all in a panic, unsure of what to do, so I kept calling my sister, nagging her until she answered. When she did, she eventually answered and drove home. All I can recall is that when I told her the horrible news over the phone to her, all you could hear in her voice was grief as she sobbed. She fled to us. How was all I could think of. Why? He was just a baby at the time. This was not fair to him. He was so innocent and pure. He was deserving of a long and prosperous life. My heart broke for him. That day, I felt so many different things; emotions and heartbreak I’ve never felt before. 

     When we got back home, Tokyo's presence overshadowed the anxious household. His inability to move freely and enjoy life's small pleasures was a painful reminder of our great loss. Tokyo's pain persisted even after we made an effort to comfort and support him; his eyes revealed a profound sadness that mirrored our own loss. 

     A spark of hope arose among our grief: Tokyo Jr., a new member of our family. Our wounded hearts were renewed by his tremendous energy and unshakable compassion, even though his entrance sparked conflicting feelings of acceptance and shame. Tokyo Jr. turned into a ray of hope, a memorial to the continuing strength of love and fortitude in the face of tragedy, even if Tokyo's memory would always be engraved in our hearts.

     We took comfort in the priceless times we spent with our new friend as the days stretched into weeks and the pain of Tokyo's absence faded into bittersweet memories. The laughter and happiness that once again filled our home was a memorial to Tokyo's spirit, demonstrating the enduring relationship that exists between people and their cherished pets. Even though Tokyo was no longer physically present, his memory continued to serve as a beacon of hope, a reminder to savor every moment and cling to the people we care about.

What Makes You Dominican? 

What makes you Dominican? 

Is it the color of your skin? 

Is it the language we speak? 

Or is it the fact that we were born in the Dominican Republic? 

No! What truly makes you a Dominican is how you cherish this fact. 

Just think about it. 

The palm trees drowning my bright light, 

the sand as white as the snow that doesn’t fall. 

The children the color of my earth, 

the smooth waves that sing you to sleep, 

and the merengue right down the street.

Is when you think about the little details and if your heart starts to dance; is when you truly are a Dominican.