Personal Narrative: The Day I Got My First Dog

I remember the day I got my first dog. His name was Cain and he was a Great Dane, brindle and only about six weeks old. I was probably only six or seven at the time, but to tell the truth, I don't even remember how old I actually was. What I do remember is that I had gotten him on my birthday.
I remember my dad had picked me up from my mom's house, then took me over to my grandparents who live in Highlands Ranch. To this day I remember the midday car rides that seemed to take an hour. I remember my dad's silver Tacoma and the bass from the sub he had in the back. I remember the late night car rides home; one second we had just gotten on the highway, music playing, sub bumping; and the next I was woken up by the reflection of the headlights on our bright white garage door. This was a tradition. …show more content…
It wasn't pitch black, but it wasn’t as bright as usual. Then I noticed the small cardboard carrying case you would get when you went to Build-A-Bear sitting on the floor. My grandma was on her knees next to it. I'm sure something occurred in between, but the next thing I remember I was on my knees, hands on both sides of the box, hunched over like a giddy child awaiting the command to tear into their next present. I don't know why, but for some reason my first instinct wasn't to viciously attack the box, but instead to carefully open the top. I remember opening the flaps, looking down inside, and seeing a pair of big brown helpless eyes peering back at me. From that instant I had this unconditional love for him. We had a connection, and from that instant we were