My dog Weezee was my best friend when I was little. We got her when I was 5, and to be truthful, I didn’t want her, because that meant we had to get rid of my rabbit, Skip.
We went to pick her up at the house of my mother’s friend-she was a short little black weenie dog-and from that moment on, my life changed. I loved Weezee so much. At the end of the day, when I would get made fun of at school, she was always there to greet me with a wagging tail, then she’d lick my face.
When I was about 15, she started getting sick. She was blind, and starting to lose her hearing.
I wasn’t awake when she died, but my parents buried her in our back yard in her favorite blanket. My mom said that she went to pet her, then she took one more breathe, and she was gone. When I got home, I couldn’t find her. I got nervousand started shaking. I finally went up to my mom, who had walked outside when I got home from school, and asked her where my dog was, and she told me that she had died that morning. I cried for a week straight. Heck, I’m crying now. I just miss her so much. We were puppies together. I would go lay down where they buried her and just cry and cry.
I now have a new dog. My dad didn’t want to get another dog, because he said he couldn’t go through that again, but I hated not having one. His name is Mikey, and he is nothing like Weezee. He’s a hyper little black Min-Pin/Chihuahua, and he gets on my nerves so bad sometimes, but I love him a lot. I know one day I’ll have to say bood-bye to him to, and I dread that day with all my heart, so I am giving and getting as much love from him as I can.
Thanks for letting me share my story.

Kristen from LA