• My puppy Cookie.
    I remember when I just got her. I started working at 15 and I asked my parents that for my 16th birthday they allowed me to have a dog, which I had always wanted but never got. I had my heart set on a Yorkie. I didn't care how big or how chubby or how old, all I knew was that I wanted one. The third sunday of March 2007 my parents went with my younger brother to a Yorkie breeder and (since I was at work) bought a beautiful 3 pound girl Yorkie puppy who I named Cookie, because at the time she looked like a chocolate chip cookie... Lol... if anything I might've been hungry... Lol
    Cookie was a nice, sweet, friendly, healthy hyper puppy. But sadly she died on May 31st, 2008 at approximately 5:30 pm. A lot of people ask me why and how I know almost the exact time she died. And the answer is simple. I was there and she didn't just die. She was killed....
    Let's rewind for a bit.
    May 31st, 2008 was my younger brother's birthday party. He had his little friends over and some family. One of his friends thought Cookie (who only weighed 8 pounds at her full grown size) wanted a walk, and thus picked her up and took her outside...without a leash. She refused to listen to anyone, not even me. The only thing she would listen to me for was when I called her name and said bye.. Then she would run to me.
    Well as it turns out I just so happened to be outside calling my little brother to come back inside and I saw Cookie running towards the street and a car was coming. I pulled her back, but she slipped from my grasp and headed towards the huge dog next door and you can imagine what I was looking at. She died shortly after from a punctured lung and stomach and I wanted to die. It was all surreal to me, It didn't happen. I was dreaming.. No I was having a nightmare. COOKIE WAS MY BABY. She was like my daughter. I would wake up to her licking my face or her curled up at my feet and I would sleep after she curled up at my feet. I worked to buy her treats and I would take her everywhere I could.
    The worst thing someone said to me was " When pets die, it's because your parents were supposed to die". How dare someone say that to me not 10 minutes after my baby had just died. Maybe she wasn't worth that much to anyone else, but she was to me. I loved her and I still do.

    The owner of the dog that killed Cookie bought me Minnie. Well I picked her and he paid. He said that a new puppy might heal my wound and fill the void I felt, if even a little bit. And she did. Minnie is my cute little girl. She's so hyper and playful and jumpy. The guy was right, she brought joy back into my house and me; joy that I though I wouldn't feel from another pet. I'm glad my Minnie Moosi is around.
    But trust me, Minnie wasn't always like she is now. When I got Minnie (or Moosi as I call her now) she was very sick. In fact she was thin and it seemed as if she would die any moment. When I got Minnie, she was 6 months old and only weighed 1.6 pounds and was only 4 inches in height. She had a terrible cough that seemed incurable because I went to the vet about 4 times in a month because she only got worse. Now, at her full grown size, she is 4.5 pounds and about 8 inches high. She is extremely healthy and lovable. But the place where we got her told us she would only get fed a handful of kibble.. Which is inhumane.... I fed her more which is why she's big now, AND HEALTHY! My Moosi is still afraid of strangers though, but once she gets to know you all she'll want to do is play.
    She's my cutie pie. <3 <3