My tree represents my family
On the outside of my right thigh.
The Harry Potter Deathly Hallows symbol
(My best friend and I both got this one)
On the front side of my left shoulder
Paw Print on my right arm
This one has a bit of a lengthy-er explanation. Two years ago, on my sister's birthday, she decided she wanted to get a dog. That cute little Jack Russell up there on the right is who she fell in love with, Penny. Penny was a great fit right from the start, I played with her all the time when I was at my sister's house. But, after a few months, my sister decided it wasn't fair to keep her since Penny was so energetic and she worked 8-5. She would only be out for a few hours in the afternoon before she had to get back in her crate to go to bed. Too much crate time for such a hyper pup. So, Penny came to live with me and my parents. At the time, my dad was working from home, my mom was a nurse and full time was three 12 hour shifts, so she was home four days a week. And when I wasn't in school or working I was home, so Penny had free roam of our five acre land. She was well exercised and happy, and she still got to see my sister when she came over. We got Penny in October of 2010, and for a few months everyone was happy. About a week before Easter in 2011, my dad was working out in the yard and Penny was loose. Normally, Penny was pretty good about sticking close and following him around, but for some reason that day she wandered off and found our elderly neighbor's garage. Penny found and ate some rat poison. We rinsed her mouth out, and she got sick, so we thought the poison came out of her system. Over the next few days, Penny was her normal hyper self. Then, the evening before Easter, we noticed she wasn't running as much as normal and she was just kind of laying down. She went to sleep that Saturday and the next morning she didn't want to come out of her crate, which was really not normal. My father and sister took her to the emergency vet while my mom, other sister, and I went over to my grandma's for Easter lunch. My mom got a phone call, and I knew something was wrong with my Penny. She didn't make it, the vet had to put her down. It turns out all of the rat poison didn't come out of her system, but it ate a hole through her lung and she was bleeding into her chest and she couldn't breath. We took her home, wrapped her in her blanket, and buried her with her favorite bone. My baby girl wasn't even a year old yet. I miss her every day. Life with a dog is just better, and I had a canine shaped hole in my life. In July, I came home from work and my dad was sitting outside in the yard with a little blue puppy in his lap. He found a family near our house who were selling Weimaraner puppies, and he got us one (See the picture to the left). After much debate over the name, we named our little blue girl Lily. I was worried that we had gotten another pup too soon, but we waited just long enough. I still missed Penny very much, but I was very glad to have Lily too. So, I got a dog's paw print tattooed on my arm, half shaded in, half just an outline. To commemorate my Penny, but to celebrate Lily.
The second tattoo excursion happened about three months ago I got these two on my back:
And last, but not least, the left picture up there, "Sorella" means sister in Italian. I used to have this friend when I was little, Alexa Kelsey. Her grandparents went to the same church as my parents did. She lived in three different houses. Her parents were divorced, but she also spent her time at her grandparents. We became best friends, we were inseparable. We played barbies and build tent forts in our living rooms, and we were so attached to each other, that when we left each other's houses, we would cry. I would keep track of which weekend she was supposed to be here, and which she would be at her dad's. One summer, she was on a dad weekend, the next week, I didn't see her. Or the next. Or any of the next after that. Her grandparents (Memaw and Poppy as we called them) finally told me she was put in a mental hospital because while her mom was taking her to her dad's, she threatened to kill herself if she had to stay with him. It turns out, he was horrible to her. She was 11 and I was 12 at the time. He commented on her weight, made her eat certain foods, and was just not a nice guy. Her life was already chaotic enough without having to deal with things that are way beyond an 11 year old. She was in Brynn Marr hospital for a month, a few months after she got out, she called me crying saying that her mom told her they were moving. I had no clue where they were going, and I never got to say goodbye. I would still see Memaw and Poppy, but slowly they stopped visiting too. My mom drove by their house one day and it was empty, with a for sale sign. They had disappeared too. I searched for her on the Internet though. I looked for any combination of names I had ever known her by and I never found her. Almost three months ago now my dad went to church on a Wednesday night for bible study and she was there, waiting for me. After we finally got to meet up and grab coffee, it was like no time had passed, we were talking and giggling just like when we were 9 and 10. So, we decided to get matching “sister” tattoos.
Those are all of my tattoos, for now.
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