When I was nine years old my family pet Missy died. She was a German Shepherd we had gotten when I was three and we lost her to heartworms. Where Missy’s story sadly ends, Frisky’s story began. My family let me choose our next pet, and I decided to go look at some pups a friend of my older brother had. They were Pitbull Beagle mixes. When I first saw Frisky it was anything but love at first site, I actually wanted her brother but I wasn’t allowed to have a boy dog. She was one of two only girls and since she looked healthiest I chose her.
At the time she was 9 weeks old. Through the years we went through many changes together, she grew from an annoying puppy who constantly climbed our fence and tore up everything in our yard into the most loyal, sweet, faithful dog I could have ever asked for, while I grew from a spoiled bratty kid into the responsible adult I am now. We would play fetch and chase in the yard, go on walks, or just lay around the house on the couch. It didn’t really matter because she was happy just being around me.
She survived parvo, being lost for over a month and finally returning home skin and bones with a broken hip, being shot, and cancer, only to be taken away by a stroke. When I found her in the bushes she wouldn’t even lift her head, but she wagged her tail at the sight of me. I immediately rushed her to the vet. They said she had a stroke and gave her some shots and wanted to keep her over night. The next day I went to get her and she was better she walked straight to the door. The vet begged me to let her stay another night and it’s a decision I will always regret. I agreed, while I was walking out the door she just looked at me so heartbroken.
I went back hugged and kissed her and said mommy will get you tomorrow. She died before I got there the next morning because of another stroke. I will never forgive myself.
I'm sorry.
| Frisky |
| Nicole |