Wrapped tightly in his favorite blanket we laid him to rest.  I put his favorite toy, a stuffed brown dog, in the hole before we said our final goodbyes.  I held not only my pet but my best friend in my arms as he lay stiff and cold, while my whole family cried.

My family used to raise dogs and breed them to sell.  Peewee was the runt of his litter, and we kept him because he was “special.”  Being a pug he would have the biggest heart of any animal.  One day while my mom worked in the garden, Stevie napped; however, I was watching TV in my room after a tiring day, and dad was leaving for a meeting on Friday at about six o’clock.  Peewee, who was two-years-old at the time, liked to run after cars and bite the tires. When my dad pulled out of the driveway, Peewee ran out of the house.  On my mom’s way inside from the garden, she watched Peewee run along side of dad’s truck.  She yelled for Peewee.  My mom screamed at the top of her lungs with agony in her voice “Steve, oh my gosh.”  My dad ran over him in the stone driveway and crushed him.   I went outside just as my dad was stopping the truck.  I stayed back on the sidewalk, and my mom ran to the driveway and pointed to the ground.  My dad walked near the rear of the truck to see Peewee twitching in the stone driveway.   My dad picked Peewee up, and I noticed he left the truck running.  He lay Peewee in the grass.  Red blood dripped from his nose and mouth; I couldn’t bear the sight of seeing him lying in the freshly cut grass beside the basketball hoop.  My best friend lay on the ground, gasping for air.  “Mom, we need to take him to the vet!” I exclaimed with tears running down my face.  

My mom declared, “There isn’t anything we can do.”  I called my sister, who doesn’t live with us, and she and her husband came as soon as possible.  Peewee helped my sister through many hardships along with the rest of us.  When people visited, Peewee was the liveliness of the house.  When my sister and her husband showed up, we carried Peewee to the front porch.  Each and every one of us bawled, and we each had a turn to hold Peewee to say goodbye. 

His favorite blanket was a blue and brown Scooby-doo blanket with silk edges.   His favorite toy was a toy my family called “Mr. Smiley,” which was a long brown dog that had a huge smile on his face and felt like a shaggy rug.  After we all were ready to say goodbye, my brother and I lay Peewee in a hole in the front yard landscaping with his toy and blanket. 

The rest of that night I looked over to see my dad crying while saying to himself,  “How did this happen?”  I just kept thinking about Peewee and remembered him when I had no one to talk to, Peewee just looked at me with his big brown eyes and would run around the house when someone would chant, “Go, Pee, go!” I miss him.  
The house has been completely lifeless since he died even though he has been gone for about two years now.  Yellow flowers that smell like spring come up by where he was buried.  To this day a grey dog tombstone sits under the green pine tree where he is buried in remembrance of him.  I’ll never forget Peewee, my best friend.