My name is Laura, and i do share a myspace with my bestest pal Owen. And Zorra too. This year it would be nice if Zorra could lose some belly weight, if Owen would stop hunting the neightbor kitty and if i could get accepted into a program at school. The last couple years Ive really made school my number one priority, this year i start applying at nursing schools. Im keeping my fingers crossed, but it seems like the path of least resistance would be to choose a different major, or to pay a heck ton of money to go to a private school. Decisions decisions...
The saga of me and owen:
so a while back i moved into this really cute little casita with the boy i was seeing at the time. he worked a crazy amount and even though i had school to keep me busy i found myself getting lonely. a lot. i really wanted a pet, something to take care of that would make me smile.
the boy didnt want me getting an animal, "its just another mouth for me to feed, and more crap for you to clean up after!" i guess theres some truth to that, but i still really wanted one. he bought me a turtle for my birthday, but anyone whos tried to cuddle with a turtle knows its like befriending a small slow dinosaur. it wasnt much fun at all.
to make matters worse, almost as soon as he moved in, he moved out. at this point i was super lonely, depressed and i had nothing to take my mind of the constant grind of school and work and school and work.
i kept looking for dogs at the shelters hoping that id find something perfect, even though i didnt know what perfect was.
September 23, 2007 i was at the humane association and i found it! a big white dog that was mostly head, he was so skinny and boney. one blue eye, and one brown and a little stump that didnt want to stop wagging for me. i fell in love. even though hed been abused you could just tell he had so much love to give. i even called my BFFFFFF joe to come look at the dog because i really wanted to take him home.
but he was kind of large, my fence needed work and a living thing is a huge committment so joe told me to go home and think about it over night.
the next day i went back, had him out of his cage and we got along famously. but still i figured id better go home and think on it.
the next day i went back again and he wasnt in his cage. i went up front to try to figure out where he was, or if he was in the process of being adopted by anyone else. they told me he had pulled out some stitches from a prior surgery, had bled out all over his cage and had to have an emergency surgery.
right then i knew i was going to have him, no matter how long it took. he needed me to help him get better, get over all the old shit that had happened, and to love something again, and i needed him for exactly the same thing.
after i took him home i was trying to bounce names off of him, but nothing stuck. i took him out to visit his gramma and the first thing she said was his names "owen". i thought that was horrible, there was no way i was going to call him that. but anyone who knows my mom can appreciate what she said next... "if you dont name him owen then ill just call him that everytime i see him, and we dont want him getting confused". theres no way i could argue with such flawless logic, so Owen stuck.
and that is how me and my bestest friend came to be
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