The year was 1994, two years before I was born, and a mother dog had just given birth to a litter of adorable puppies. Among those puppies, was a frisky little puppy who would soon be Bo Hope, the second dog of the Hope family. Two years passed, and through Rose Hospital a baby could be heard crying. This baby was me.



As I grew up, I learned how to crawl, walk, and eventually talk. I had wonderful parents who loved me and even a little sister. My closest companion though, was Bo. Bo had grown into a strong, sleek, and handsome border-collie. We spent many happy days together playing dress up, house, frisbee, fetch, and sleeping together, his body as my pillow. Many years passed, and soon I was six, and he was eight. It was time for me to go to school. Slowly, I got my skirt on and my incredibly red shirt on. I buckled my shoes, brushed my teeth and hair, and then it was time to say goodbye. Bo and I hugged a tearful goodbye and then I was off.



School days passed and Bo and I hardly had any time to play any more. As I learned my a,b,c's, Bo waited for me to come home so we could play some more. When I skipped up the driveway and into the house, there he would be, waiting for me to play, which we always did. As I grew older, I got more homework and we had less time to play. After a while we just played on the weekends. Years flew by and I made new friends, went to piano and tennis lessons, and before I knew it, I was in seventh grade, and he was 14. His fur was gray and stiff, his muscles cramped from arthritis, and his eyes a faded brown. At night, due to arthritis, he thumped, scratched, and whined wanting some company. Whenever I heard this I would always stay up and comfort him, singing lullabies to get him back to sleep. Then one day, his stomach started bleeding black blood. My mom was called by my dad and they took him to the veterinarians office. But it was too late, there he died on the examining table.



Up there in doggie heaven, I can still picture him, playing frisbee and playing with the other dogs. Although he is dead, he is remembered deeply as a dog who never failed to comfort me. Although he is dead, he will always be remembered. Although he is dead, his spirit lives on.