The Best Day of my Life

Recorded in my 8th grade composition notebook.

The best day of my life was not all that exciting. It wasn't even unusual. to be honest, it wasn't even that great. I got my dog. I love him very much, but still, the event just isn't very exciting. It was when I was 5, around October. I was at home, looking forward to a day of playing Laura's Happy Adventures on the hulking, ugly computer that was, at the time, new. However, my dad had a different idea.

"Today, we're going to go look at pool tables," he informed my sisters and I.

"But Daddy," I complained, "I don't wanna. Pool tables are boring."

"Trust me, you'll have fun." So we loaded up the car and set out. The drive was long in five year old time, nearly 2 episodes of Barney (an hour). I spent the entire time explaining to my dad that that there was absolutely no way that pool tables could be "fun." When we got there, my Mom gasped.

"Ooh! Look!" she told us, clearly excited. "Golden retrievers. The pool table guy must breed goldens too. We should ask about getting one."

Dad began to laugh.

"SURPRISE!" He said. "We're getting a dog." We rushed out of the car, pool table forgotten, to look at the puppies. The breeder brought out the dogs, one after the other, for Mom to look at. None of the dogs had names, so my sisters and I called them by what they looked like. One dog in particular looked like he had forgotten to wipe his butt. We christened him "Poopy-butt," creative children that we were. Poopy-butt was very cute. He was big, and very fluffy. However, he didn't get as much cuddling as the other dogs. When he came near me, I would run away shrieking, "ew! gross!"

For Mom, however, Poopy-butt's cuteness won out. When he came to our house two weeks later, he was much cleaner. We didn't even recognize him. It wasn't until two months later that I discovered that Rufus and Poopy-butt where one and the same.