By: Penelope Duran
Shadow Puppet
Every living thing has a personal way of dealing with loss. Take Shadow for instance,
who with fitting name, follows me everywhere now that Sofia’s gone. Her loyal black Lab trails me upstairs, downstairs and outside the house. I cope in my own way, sitting in her room and reflecting. Sometimes I slip under her flowered quilt and feel my mind slipping away. I smile at the old sketch of Peter Pan on her bulletin board and return to the sanctuary of the past.
As long as I can remember Sofia has always been around as my older sister, a watchful guardian with a big heart which she shared with everyone. Even when I pestered her as she studied, she still had plenty of love to spare. If I wanted to play a game with her, she resisted and with constant pleading, relented. She taught me new tricks. Sofia would turn off the overhead lights and turn her study lamp around, which she shined upon the doorway to imagination. We would form creatures with our fingertips, letting shadow puppets wander across the wall. Sofia and I would make butterflies, bunnies and dogs, which were my favorite.
When I was very young, I was a sort of dog snatcher, claiming all the dogs in the house, mainly the various dog stuffed animals, which were mostly Sofia’s. I also captured a dog keychain, a shirt, a mug and a poster with dozens of breeds on it. Sofia did not take it badly that I borrowed her dogs. She didn’t even seem to mind that I took Pink Doggie, her beloved friend from before I was born. There are lots of photos of Sofia and Pink Doggie.
My adoration for dogs fed my desire for a “puppet” of my own. I would incessantly sing “How Much is that Doggie in the Window?” everywhere I went. I would bellow louder still whenever we passed the pet shop. Momma dismissed my pleas for a puppet, saying that when I had my own house and could care for myself I could get one. She said that she had Sofia, Shadow, and me and didn’t need another dog. Sofia offered me some consolation, saying that I could be her puppet. Thereafter, I took to canine behavior. I used my “paw” to scratch myself behind the ear, and I would regularly wander around town in my Dalmatian costume. I refused Momma’s requests to wash it, and when I discovered it missing, I would stand guard in the laundry room until I could retrieve it.