I never thought I was a dog person. We had dogs growing up. Dogs. Not the family dog. Not a family member. Dogs that my dad brought home from off the side of the road. Dogs that were just there. They were just dogs to me.
April 2007: My sister pregnant with her first child and little Kingston.
Then, 8 years ago, my sister wanted a dog. A dog of her own that would stay in the house. One that would stay in her small city loft. One that she could pamper and buy stuff for and could grow up with her unborn child. But he got too big. He had to go my parents house where there was a yard and a fence and freedom. He was still her dog but he became the family dog.
My dad took him on and vowed to take care of him. He promised to treat him well and make sure his needs were met. He was supposed to train him but umm — that didn’t really happen. That’s okay though. We still loved Kingston. He was big as a puppy. He reached to my head almost and he loved to jump. He was a puppy but looked like a grown dog. He was a little intimidating but he wouldn’t hurt you. He was just curious — and friendly. He wasn’t a house dog though. Nope. He’d come into the garage on especially cold nights and he loved his crate. He protected the home from butterflies and squirrels. The perfect watch dog — lol. He was our Kingston.
Then Kingston wasn’t a puppy anymore. He was calmer. He stopped jumping on everybody out of excitement and would just look up at you to see what you were up to. He formed a bond with my father. They spent hours upon hours together. My dad in the yard with Kingston by his side. My dad says they talked. I don’t know Kingston talk but my dad does.
He continued to stand guard over the yard and the garden and the butterflies and squirrels. Sometimes we’d look out and see him jumping at the air. Other times, he was just laying in the sun.
Then I got the phone call. There was a death in the family. Kingston was gone. He laid out in the sun and went on to doggy heaven. It felt like a ton of bricks hit me. I had an audible reaction to this news. Kingston died and it made me so sad. How could Kingston be gone? How did he die? How did he leave us? He’s supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be watching over the house and the yard and the garden and the butterflies and the squirrels. He’s supposed to be lying out in the sun and watching us. He supposed to be our dog.
I never thought I was that person. I never thought I was a dog person. I never thought I’d have such an attachment to a dog. But apparently I am that person. I’m glad my dad took all of these pictures of Kingston. Every photo album he sent me had at least 1 picture of Kingston.
Kingston with my dad.Monique’s attempt at making Kingston an inside dog…
I never thought I was a dog person. We had dogs growing up. Dogs. Not the family dog. Not a family member. Dogs that my dad brought home from off the side of the road. Dogs that were just there. They were just dogs to me.
Kingston. He was big as a puppy. He reached to my head almost and he loved to jump. He was a puppy but looked like a grown dog. He was a little intimidating but he wouldn’t hurt you. He was just curious — and friendly. He wasn’t a house dog though. Nope. He’d come into the garage on especially cold nights and he loved his crate. He protected the home from butterflies and squirrels. The perfect watch dog — lol. He was our Kingston.
He continued to stand guard over the yard and the garden and the butterflies and squirrels. Sometimes we’d look out and see him jumping at the air. Other times, he was just laying in the sun.
