When I was 10 years old my family went to the pound to pick out a family dog. When we saw “pooch” we all ageed this was the dog for us.Pooch was always with my 4 brothers and my sister. As we got older, Pooch would sleep by the front door and would not go up stairs to her bed until we were all in for the night. Five years later, when I was 15 my Father died. Pooch would never go upstairs to her be again. My mother would pick her up and take her upstairs, but she would sneek back down stairs to wait for my Dad to come home. This went on for almost ten years and Pooch spent her last night on earth waiting up for my Dad.

Greg from TX