What really matters? The world today has been warped and molded based on money and fear. What puts a price on something? The price tag or a criticism from someone you know? For some, the brand handbag they carry is more important to them than relationships they have. Relationships they have are influenced by the handbag. What is truly important?
For years I had been begging my parents for a Beagle. Now, finally, we are going to pick up my puppy. We're gone insane trying to find the perfect name for our little Beagle. As a family, we decide on Buster. I am nine years old and practically bouncing in my seat. It's mid-November and chilly. We pull into the driveway of the breeder that we're buying Buster from. He comes out of the barn with a little, wrinkly puppy in his arms. He hands Buster over to me. He's so warm and soft. Buster looks up and me and licks my chin. To keep him warm, I hold him close to me on the car ride home. First, we stop at my little cousins house. She sees Buster and screams in happiness. When my aunt tells her we have to leave, she says, "No, I want to stay and play with Buther." We all laugh and tear my dog away from her; she was not happy.
We get home to show him around. Unfortunately, Buster is still not house trained. Let's just say we use a lot of paper towels and newspaper. Over the next few years, Buster is non-stop. He's more annoying than ever imaginable. Puppy classes failed miserably. His first veterinarian visit was really ugly. At several points, my dad honestly wanted to send him away. But we kept him anyway. Now, Buster behaves 95% of the time, is sweet, and very protective.
I get home from school, tired and impatient. My dad opens the crate and he comes out wriggling and smiling like it's the best day of his life. Buster whines and jumps up on me. He leans against my legs, waiting for me to scratch his back. I find his "sweet spot" and his leg starts to kick uncontrollably. My welcome home greeting is the best and always puts a smile on my face. Before homework, I sit on the couch to watch some t.v. From around the corner, I see his little face. When he sees that I've spotted him, he jumps up on my lap. For a Beagle, he is pretty big. Buster is thirty pounds of pure muscle. I lose feeling in my legs pretty quickly, but it doesn't even faze him.
Whenever I'm having a bad day, Buster is always there. In a way he's better than friends because he won't say a word but still be caring. I curl up next to him, stroking his fur. As my tears fall, he licks them away. He'll stay that way forever, no matter what. After I've recovered from my meltdown, we go into the kitchen and I give him treat. After he inhales it, he trots over to the door, indicating he wants to go outside. I put on his leash and we go in the backyard to play. We play fetch for a little while before we freeze. When we come in, we both get on the couch to warm up. Buster is the best dog in the world. Although my family did pay quite a price to get him, he is priceless to me.
It's Christmas Eve and my mom and I are making cookies to leave out for Santa. Although I am a little too old for that, we still like to keep our Christmas Eve routine. Tonight is always really fun and exciting. It's about five o'clock and my family is getting dressed up for church. Like most churches, mine holds a special Christmas Eve service. We get to church and are handed a candle, the usual welcome. I greet several of my friends and compliment their outfits. We walk into the dark great room as Pastor Jeff begins to speak. The candles are lit and hymns are sung. When the service is over, we blow out the candles and fake snow blows from a machine. I run to find my gifts for my friends and they do the same. When we get home, I make myself some hot chocolate and get into my pajamas. I glance out the window, praying for snow. At last it catches my eye; several tiny crystals dancing their way down to the ground. I smile and enjoy this time of peaceful bliss. Christmas is just around the corner.
I lazily roll out of bed after a night of no sleep. Half unconscious, I make my way downstairs following the smell of coffee and the sound of my mom and grandma talking. I look in the den to see our little tree and all the presents underneath. I'm immediately greeted by the way-too-excited Buster. Once I say hello to my family, we go into the den to open our stockings. When we've finished, my mom and dad make our traditional Christmas morning breakfast, potato pancakes and homemade applesauce. We sit on the couch, eating our breakfast to watch the parade. It takes a while to finish up everything, but when we do we go back into the den to open the rest of the presents. A few hours later, my aunt, uncle, and cousin come over for dessert and more presents. I play some songs on the piano while everyone sings before they go home. At the end of the day, I'm exhausted and ready for bed. Christmas day is always a very special time for me that I wouldn't trade for anything.
Although the things I value are very different; when I think about it, both are fairly similar. When I'm alone with Buster, I have a sense of peace and relaxation. I feel as if nothing can go wrong, even if they are. I feel the same way about Christmas with my family. On that one day, I don't think about my troubles; I leave them all behind me. Christmas is a time of joy with the people I love, and Buster is included. Even though, on Christmas day, he's a bit of a spaz. The things I value most bring joy and love to people. Maybe that's why I cherish them so much. They show me things I otherwise wouldn't know. Whether I'm enjoying the parade with my family or sitting with Buster (or both!) I know that I wouldn't be me without these things.
