October 1st was National Black Dog Day. While it's too bad that a day like that is needed, it's good too, of course, that there are people who bring the problem of black dog adoptions to the forefront.
I just learned about it, and even if I'm a little late, I decided to honor my black dog, Faith. Who, being a dog, is completely unaware that the color of your skin or fur, may determine a whole lot of things in your life.
You were tiny but fierce, unafraid but cautious.
I got up, but how do I get down?
Walking with Daddy.
I think I'll take a break now.
Mommy's favorite picture of me and Samson.
My first Christmas.
My first birthday April 2015 with my uncle Lenard.
My second birthday in 2016 with mommy and Samson. Her friend Tom, who built us our doghouse, took the picture.
My third birthday, 2017. Queen of the Castle, well Samson's table anyway.
Before I knew it, I turned four in April this year.
And here she is, my Girl, my Love, my Little Girl Blue, my Faithie Baby, my black dog Faith. I just found out about National Black Dog Day, which reminded me that being adopted while being a black dog is more difficult than being any other color. I had forgotten that, something akin to what people may experience while driving while black, eating while black, napping while black, selling water while black (and young girl), and so on.
During the Los Angeles riots, Rodney King, who was beaten to within an inch of his life by the policemen who had just been acquitted, asked something so simple, yet so profound:
"Why can't we just get along?"
"Why can't we just get along?"
So, Faith, mommy is eating her veggies, hoping to be around for you for as long as possible. Little Girl Blue, I love you.
