My beloved dog died when I was 12. I grew up with that creature and loved her more than anyone else in the family. She was very much my dog and I was happy to take on the majority of work involved in looking after her - I took her for three walks each day, even being happy to get up early to do this before school. I loved the peace and sanctuary of walking with the dog, away from the chaos of our house. I sorted out her meals very day also. I was utterly bereft when she died of old age but, after the initial grief had passed, I realised that although that particular dog could not be replaced, there was a gap in my life and it would be wonderful if we got another dog.
My parents said no immediately and mum went on a rant, I can still remember about how I would not look after it and that I didn't know the meaning of the word "responsibility". That's the phrase she kept repeating and it really stung.
I embarked on a project. I kept a notebook, detailing all the responsibilities I had for our previous dog and how I'd happily do these again. I made sure I still got up early, even though there was no dog to walk - I didn't want mum to say I'd become lazy and wouldn't be able to break the habit. I kept a note of all chores I did, especially without being asked, and all I did to look after my grandmother, who lived with us. I researched dog breeds at the library and wrote down all I had learned about the best match for us in terms of low maintenance and low risk of health problems. I looked after my friend's hamster when she was on holiday and made sure that my parents didn't have to do a single thing to help. I walked the neighbours' dog as often as I could. I included my school report which described me as incredibly mature and responsible for my age... I wanted to keep this going for a sustained period of time and then present the notebook to my mum after 6 months so that she could see how serious I was about this, and how responsible I could be. Of course, being 12, I couldn't keep completely quiet and would still ask from time to time about getting a dog and always received the same answer about not knowing the meaning of responsibility, always said in anger.
I came home from school one day to find that my mum had found my notebook. She was furious and ripped it up in front of me, still going on about responsibility. "Don't make me laugh", she kept saying. "You have no idea about responsibility".
Now in my 40s, she brings it up from time-to-time; the fact that I kept pestering them for a dog and wouldn't take no for an answer. She says that we were struggling financially and although it was sad that our dog died, it freed up a lot of spare cash and they did not want to take on the extra expense again. Would I have fully understood and accepted this at 12 years old? In all honesty, probably not, but it would have been better than the constant attack on my personality and I really wish she hadn't gone down this route. It made me doubt myself for years. By the time of the showdown about the notebook, it really wasn't event about the dog anymore - it was about me wanting to be recognised for who I was.