My Very Own Pet

I was barely one year old, dragging my plump body across the floor of my grandparents' cozy house delicately tucked into the corner of a long cul-de-sac. I loved the fuzzy white carpet so much that I would rub my face in the carpet during each small break I took from my attempt to crawl. I also was enamored with their friendly and sweet shitzu, Basley. After rubbing my small head in the carpet, I would nuzzle up to Basley the way a dog would rub up against another dog. After entertaining my family with my amusing tactics for a few minutes, my eyes began to water, my nose turned red, and I began to sneeze uncontrollably. My mother, the protective and caring woman that she is, immediately swept me off of the floor and rushed me to the doctor. I had an allergic reaction to the animal; a sad realization for my dog-loving father. I would never have a pet dog, or a pet cat for that matter. I was, and still am, allergic to most animals with fur.
About four years later, I started to notice animals. I loved animals, and wanted one so badly. Tears flooded from my eyes each time my mother had to explain to me that I would never have a pet. That Christmas, Santa Claus brought me the best present I had ever received. I woke up at the crack of dawn, as I do every Christmas, awoke my younger brother and baby sister, and the three of us excitedly slid down the stairs to our Christmas tree. After unwrapping a few presents, I noticed something reflecting light from the back of the Christmas tree. It was a small glass fishbowl with a beautiful beta fish gracefully swimming around. "Erin, this is your very own pet to take care of!" My mother explained. I was ecstatic. I not-so-creatively named it Erin, and was thrilled each day I got to put fish food in its bowl. About four months later, Erin died. I sobbed over the porcelain toilet bowl as she swirled around and around before plummeting into the dark hole into what I deemed "Fish Heaven." I will always remember my beta fish Erin, and how she taught me how to responsibly care for someone (or something) other than my self.