I remember my lungs hurting from breathing in the frigid air, my face getting increasingly numb. It was only autumn, but I’d grown to expect New York to be this cold by now.

Heavy breathing noises snapped me out of my wandering thoughts; in front of me my dog, Leroy, stood, with an expectant expression and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. My eyes traveled from him to the battered soccer ball at his paws- right. That’s why I was out in the backyard in the first place.

Slowly, I raised the ball off the ground (trying to ignore the slobber I could feel through my gloves), making Leroy’s tail shake wildly. One, two, three- I threw the ball with all the force I could muster, watching as he sprinted off into the grassy area of our fenced in yard.

Did I know how much things would change in two years time? I took so many things for granted back then.

Noticing that Leroy hadn’t come back, I looked over and saw his white and golden fur amongst the dirt and multicolored leaves. What could he possibly be doing? I shook my head, walking over to where he was digging a hole near the fence, his soccer ball long forgotten. Before I could do anything, I heard the side door open and slam shut, footsteps against concrete, and then I knew my brother George had come outside.

“Hey,” he began, tugging his hat further down to fight the chill. He immediately picked up Leroy’s damaged soccer ball (it actually used to be my brother’s ball, but that’s another story), surprisingly getting the dog’s attention away from destroying the ground. I had scoffed, trying to hide my jealousy that Leroy paid more attention to George than me.

My brother waved the toy around, making Leroy jump and bark excitedly. We turned to each other and cracked up a little, George’s face noticeably getting redder from the cold as he stayed out longer. And just like that- they were playing around, George chasing Leroy around and vice versa- as I just stood there, my thirteen year old self deciding I was too cold and lazy to participate.

This was the laziness that contributed to my parents giving Leroy away. I didn’t understand what I had at the time, I realize that now two years later (better late than ever, right?). But, maybe he is better off with a different family; one that has more than just love to give. I still can’t help but wonder, and imagine if things were different.

What if I had given my dog more attention? What if I had known that those times would be so painfully temporary?

We had moved the next year, in the middle of the school year. It was just a move, I could always talk to my old friends, but I just wish that I had cherished my time. Then, maybe I wouldn’t look upon my memories with even a little bit of regret.

I didn’t want the past to hold me down anymore.