Five years ago, I was going through a particularly rough time in my life, which is why my parents thought it would be a good idea to bring home a pet dog. We had a dog once; his name was Kutush (I didn't name him, don't look at me). He was a mix of a Spitz and a street dog. His life span was short, and I still remember crying my eyes out when he... you know.
So naturally I was overjoyed when dad brought home a would-fit-right-in-your-hand Golden Retriever puppy. We still hadn't named him when he came here. I wanted to name him Gheu (Okay this time you can look at me), but ended up naming him Scooby. As hard as things have been the last few years, he has always been a bright spot in my life. Every time I come home, he's there for me, waiting to jump on me and bring me his toys to play with him.
I cannot possibly overstate how much I love him. I think I love him more than any human being, ever. He's practically a human now, anyway. He rarely gets on amiably with other dogs. Actually he rarely gets on well with anyone other than my family and I. He's gotten better with time, though.
Pet him once, and he'll love you forever. I firmly believe that if a robber ever enters our home, Scooby would be more likely to run to him with a bone in his mouth than attack him. Oh well. At least he's cute.
He has been such a huge part of my life, that I thought I'd introduce him to my readers. Say hi!
Okay, now it's time to sign off. Bye! Or in Scooby's language, woof woof!