The Legacy of Sasha
I knew immediately who I'd talk about for today's five minute freewrite! What is more expressive than a talking dog?
If you have never met a Siberian Husky, than you're missing out. I bought Sasha with a $50 down payment when she was 6 weeks old. She was a precocious puppy in a house of many shih tzus and both of her parents (kenneled in the basement of a city home).
My son found a newspaper advertisement which had Siberian Husky pups priced at $250. Her blue eyed siblings went fast.
It was my birthday and all I wanted was a Husky. Growing up, we had adopted a mixed Husky/Shepherd named Girl which had been abused prior to our rescuing her. She ran away one night during a loud Fourth of July fireworks display when I was around 10 years old. She had been shot at for fun by neighbors near my grandparent's home while chained in the field for entertainment of her twisted owners.
Mom marched over and took her and threatened to call authorities on them if they tried to get her back.
I yearned for her return for years after that and even dreamed she, like Lassie, would return home, but it never happened.
The following week, my son said that one Siberian Husky puppy was in the paper and now showed a reduced price of $200. It was still a lot of money for a pup. We were allowed to go look at her, per my ex-husband. The dog was a birthday gift for me if the owners would take payments.
The owners agreed to take payments after discovering we used to be neighbors on the same road where we currently resided. No one else wanted my pie-eyed wonder. She had one blue and one brown eye, but was papered.
What would follow was 14 1/2 years of being owned by the most expressive talking dog you would ever meet. By nature, Huskies love to talk and being a full bred dog, she was true to her breed.
Sasha loved kids and adults alike and everyone was greeted with excited barks. When we left for too long, her demeanor and bark resembled scolding. I would tell her to stop swearing at me. Her love for people and walks was announced enthusiastically. If I said, "Do you want to walk?" Her bark would break the sound level and she had little patience as I found my sneakers, but she'd wait by the door talking a stream of dog gibberish as I prepared. Once she jumped as I bent to snap her leash, connecting with my eye brow and splitting it open. I still have the scar.
Daily she greeted me by the door and I received a run down of what transpired before she settled down by my chair for the night.
I had to have her put to sleep 1/02/2014 and her ashes were given to me by my daughter-in-law, Ashely, in a kind gesture a week after she died. I wasn't prepared to receive this box my son was advised to pick up for me. I came home to her remains one day after work. Ashley later told me that having worked in a vetranarian's office, she knew that the dogs not claimed went to a common garbage to be disposed of and she knew I wouldn't be able to stand that.
My oldest son, her husband and Ashley paid for Sasha's cremation for me knowing what a comfort she had been through my roughest years following the loss of my Mom and both sets of grandparents and my subsequent ugly divorce. Her speech was much richer and deeper than just her bark in my life and to me she was my therapy dog.
I miss you, Sasha!
This post defied the standard 5 minute freewrite but....
**This is my 5 minute freewrite.
The prompt today is talking dog
I hope you'll join in with a growing group of lively freewriters!
And join us at the Isle of Write in the freewriter - retreat
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
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