A Raging Hero with Illuminating Courage
Written by Michael Mangin
Published on November 23, 2010

Winter of 2003, a cold frost approaches the city of Colorado Springs. A young male, age ten, prepares for a day of excitement. The short, chubby, boy with blue eyes personifies the past version of myself. The boy grabs his jacket, sweat pants and hat. The frigid cold one can feel for miles around, yet the boy heads out to play in the bewildering brightness as his dog follows close behind. The plentiful joy and laughter explodes as the two run through the white snow. They play in large snow piles and build large snow men. His best friend, a dog named Chexie. Chexie exists as the dog that everyone has affection for, the dog that always wants to play, and the dog remains close by when one needs a friend. Chexie has the appearance of a black Labrador-Collie mix with a thin white stripe above her snout. Chexie will always stay by this boy's side no matter where he goes or what he does. They truly make up an undying relationship. As I sit back and reminisce, I dream of all those fond memories I dwell on as I grew up. The most important of all exists in the presence of my childhood best friend, Chexie. Our relationship was genuine and stories—like the one above—always existed.

Which brings one to Christmas morning 2003, I opened all my presents from Santa, took Chexie to Candace's house—a good friend of mine that watched Chexie occasionally—and continued my normal routine cruising on my journey to Pueblo with my grandparents. Later that same day, I ripped through the packaging with an abundance of laughter and joy as I remained with family and friends. The love also progressed in a manner transparent to some. The day included rocking with joy all around the Christmas tree with many gifts and much alleviation. I will never forget how all of that came tumbling down like a brick wall devastated by a demolition crew when I heard those very words just twenty-four hours later.

It all began with Courage. One needs courage to continue on their "life road" in which courage is always present. I like to think I acquired courage on the evening of December 26, 2003—Chexie sure acquired it that day. The day after Christmas occupies significant tragedy in my life; the most emotional and horrifying event anyone could witness. When the night of December 26 transpired, the presence of aggravation, grief, and misery became imperceptibly close to home. My grandparents dropped me off at my home that night—which was usual. Not knowing what to expect once inside, I walked through the front door of my home and met a look of worry and discomfort as my mother stood in the kitchen puffing on the butt of a cigarette—a typical practice of hers. My mom states in a low, calm, and subtle tone, "Michael. I have some bad news." All I thought, "Hey, what did Shauna—my sister—do now?" My worrisome mother continued to tell me what happened that morning. After that, the most horrifying and despondent feeling rushed through my heart, body and mind. I dropped my suitcase to bolt over to Candace's motel room.

Within seconds, after busting through the front door, leaping over a fence and racing to witness the fate of my friend, I arrived at an anthracite engulfed home. The very considerable feeling of disheartenment and wretchedness filled my heart with sorrow as I stood in disbelief with only thing I could do; cry. When walking through the house staring at all the dismay, I stumbled upon an object that caught my interest—Chexie's leash. The leash, badly burned, retained a charcoal appearance and a piece of melted plastic on it. I later found out that my best friend—Chexie—saved the life of Candace's mother—a task not unusual for my courageous hero.

Thinking back now, the memories can go on into an endless pond of joy and happiness. As I recall of all those great times, I always remember Chexie at my side. I love Chexie, and she knows I love her. The two of us clang together in all circumstances. Through all the crazy times of running in the snow, running across Garden of the Gods, running down a dirt hill or running through a river, Chexie enjoyed the moment with me. When times got rough, Chexie stayed at my side. Chexie remained the type of dog that everyone wanted to have placed as a trophy; a raging hero with illuminating courage. These "golden days of my life" contain the best moments of my life. With all my friends and my dog there for me, nothing barricaded the excitement of a period such as those memories. Happiness, joy, and wonderful elegance always toppled over inside of my soul. Those feelings endured until that horrific day of turmoil in my life. The grief will surpass, but the sorrow will always stay eternal. I can only look back at all the memories and joy, and look towards a day when I will see my beloved Chexie once more.

Originally written for Ms. Ruttum's Composition 1020 College level class at Coronado High School