December is birthday month for my family.
All within a couple weeks, we celebrate birthdays for my grandma, dad, cousin, aunt and our dog.
I know it sounds silly to some, if not ridiculous, to even know your pet’s birthday, let alone celebrate it.
I don’t think twice about it.
When my brother and I moved to a home in Georgia with our dad, we found ourselves living in a home without a pet dog for the first time.
We begged and begged that my dad would get us a new companion, but after about six months of asking, our house was still dog-less.
I eventually settled on the strategy any middle school-aged child might: guilting my parent into it.
I constantly complained that I couldn’t bear to live in a home with only men and I needed a girl dog to somehow alleviate that obvious pain.
My dad inevitably caved under the pressure and agreed to allow us to adopt a dog from the local shelter.
We scoured their website for weeks until we found the perfect dog. She was a small, black and brown mutt with just one floppy ear named “Rae Rae.”
The photo was of her unhappily propped up in a basket while forcibly wearing a pink and white polka dot bow. She was adorable, but the look of sheer resentment on her face toward whoever posed her for the photo was what sold us on her.
We told my dad we had chosen our new pup and eagerly planned the day we’d go pick her up.
Our plans were falling into place and dreams finally coming true, until my dad delivered the bad news: Rae Rae was adopted by another family.
I was crushed, and I let my dad know in the form of a written letter detailing how he had devastated me.
A couple weeks later, I forgave my dad when he offered to take my brother and I to the shelter to see other dogs that were available.
When we introduced ourselves at the shelter, the employee helping us recognized my dad’s name from calls he made earlier expressing interest in adopting Rae Rae. She let us know that her adoption fell through and she was still available, if we were still interested.
At thirteen years old, I knew this was divine intervention. The heavens might as well have parted while she shared the news with us.
The employee went to get Rae Rae and warned us not to be alarmed if she was timid at first. She was generally afraid of people because she was abused by her previous owner, who was hoarding animals in her apartment.
After an uncertain entrance, Rae Rae ran into my lap, curled up next to me and fell asleep.
It didn’t take much persuasion from there to bring her home with us and welcome her as our newest family member.
The birthday wishes for Rae Rae are more of a joke than anything, but it’s also a quick reminder for us of how much happiness this little pup has brought us since that adoption day.
And, for me, a celebration of the fact that I was never again outnumbered as the only girl in the house.
-Kayleen Petrovia is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune.