Descriptive Essay About A Dog

I glanced down at the scruffy Chihuahua mix happily chewing on a discarded stick, her tail furiously wagging back and forth. When she heard her name, she quickly lifted her brown head and looked up at me before returning to her previous task. I smiled and snatched the stick from the ground, slowly backing away from her. Princess quickly stood up and let out a defiant bark, which earned a laugh for me. She playfully lunged at the stick multiple times until I gave up and tossed the stick over my back, watching her chase after it. Princess was such a unique dog, and I was grateful that my uncle got her for me after years of pleading my family for a dog. At first, I was little bummed out because she was a small dog and I wanted a bigger breed, but I immediately got over that within an hour or so of having her. She was nothing short of a spitfire, and she had such a great personality. It was impossible not to love her. If anything ever happened to her, I

The pavement’s sizzling and the animals are hiding in the shade. My small brown, black, and white beagle greets me at the door as I walk in at around 3:30. He jumps and dances around in circles with his tail wagging. I took him for a walk like usual and he couldn’t seem to get enough of the weather. We went inside and he was just sitting in front of the door whining. “Put him on the lead” my mom said. “No” I responded quickly.

On Wednesday, June 18, 2003, I had finalized the decision to put my incapacitated dog to rest. It became a reality. I clearly remember the warm, breezy day that occurred two weeks ago. As I sat in the freshly cutgrass of my front yard, I paid no attention to the sounds of the birds that were singing or the leaves that were dancing on the trees. All that was on my mind was the details of the last 13 years and remembering the times we shared together. As I kept trying to convince myself that he would not have to suffer another day from his ailments, I kept thinking of the first day that he came into my life. I was 15 years old when I got Valen. It was Valentine's Day in 1990. Earlier that week my mother was near Port Jervis, New York on a business trip. She had some free time before she had to come home to Pennsylvania so she decided to stop at the local SPCA. Her intentions were to simply look at the animals and then leave. She made her way to the area that housed the dogs. There she found a shy, but friendly, golden retriever. He was a bit apprehensive at first, almost as if he was neglected and abused, but it didn't take much of my mom's gentle touch and her soft, subtle voice before this dog realized she was his savior. She decided that she would like to adopt this dog however, the policy was strict, and there was a seven-day waiting period before you could adopt an animal.

In a world where some were different, in a way you would believe. Some born with powers that shouldn't real. Things you wouldn’t expect a human to have. Powers like human body made out of fire or even balls of electricity crumbling out of their hand or maybe even super blue eyes with visions. Some may think were crazy or even weird because we were born or even raised different, But in my town everything is different. In some people's eyes they see me as a criminal, but in others they see me as a hero whos trying to save the town.

Carol Bailey had always wanted a dog. Every year she asked her dad if their family could finally get a dog. He had always refused, describing the pain that you go through when they inevitably pass away. When she was in eighth grade, after years of asking, her father finally caved in. The Baileys decided to get a golden retriever from a breeder in town. They went together and picked out a dog to buy. Before the dog was old enough to be picked up by the Baileys, it died from an unknown cause. The breeder apologized and allowed them to choose another from the same litter. With their playful puppy Andy finally at home, Carol could not be happier. She spent hours each day playing with him, walking him, and even trying to teach tricks to him, although

That familiar lick, the lick I felt for years. I opened my eyes slowly to find my golden labrador Roscoe, with his paws on my blanket, and with his narrow head licking my face until it’s raw. Roscoe often does this to me, he licks my face in the morning just so I can give him breakfast. I got up from my bed to walked into my bathroom connecting to my bedroom to go and brush my teeth.

When I woke up in the morning, there was a dog in my lab. The dog was not very pedestrian, as he looked very strange and awkward and wasn’t moving. I did my best to remove the dog from my lap as he was very warm. My parents must have brought the dog home yesterday, I thought. Nothing seemed to work. The dog was very tenacious. All I wanted to do was get ready for school. The previous night, I had stayed up until midnight finishing my homework which required being very scrupulous. I am very particularly and demand the best of myself.

When I was little, I loved to play with my dog, Missy. We liked to play outside, and Missy’s favorite game was catching a frisbee. When my family and I ate a meal, I sneaked her treats from our table, even though my parents told me not to. Every evening when it was nice enough to go outside, I would run with her, and she would pounce on the ground, before chasing after me.

Boomer was one of the best dogs I ever had; he was a yellow Labrador Retriever. Ever since I was born, he had been my friend. I remember a few years ago, I was laying on the floor of my room and Boomer laid down with me, putting his arm over my back. He brought me great joy. I remember him as playful, caring, and a pretty big dog. He would never growl at me and was always eager to meet new people. Boomer was my to go to if I wasn’t feeling good, or if I was upset. When I was in third grade, we got another dog, Oscar, and everything changed. He is a German Wirehair Pointer, they are bred to be hunting dogs. Now I had two dogs to play with.

I banged my head against my pillow. “I don’t want to go run a mile!” I shouted. I waited for a response, there was none. Suddenly, my door flew open. For a few moments, no one was there. Suddenly, my mom came running in.

Most little girls dream of becoming a princess and finding their Prince Charming. I dreamed for a puppy that would snuggle with me in bed and chase away the nightmares. Fast forward to seventeen years later and I am a proud dog owner of a dachshund. A relationship with a best friend who isn’t human is one I couldn’t imagine living without. As an owner I learned it’s not just mundane maintenance that takes to raise my dog but she also comes with her own quirks, attitude, and has molded an everlasting place in my heart.

Think about something that can’t be lived without. The first thought coming to mind may be food, water or shelter, but for others that unlivable material could be an object. It could be a phone, a favorite shirt, a toy or any other assortment of items. Now imagine how that item can influence a life and decide if it does produce a long term impact in people’s thoughts and actions. A narrow mirror hanging on a wall or a pair of shoes on one's feet may appear trivial, but any item can have a story behind it and generate a lifelong impact. Can an object actually shape who someone is? Any object can influence someone’s life, no matter what it may be. I’m confident this is true since at one year of age, I acquired an item that helped craft who I am today and without it, my attitude and values would be drastically different.

I looked at my dog and made eye contact with his large brown eyes. Time seemed to slow down as I read his eyes like an open book. I still remember the look today, while I was laying on the couch next to him. It was the most terrifying sight I’ve ever seen. My dog, my best friend, and the only thing to trust me with everything calmly could show that he had accepted death. For me though he was still could wagging his tail for us. The night I saw this was October 22nd at 8:02 PM. This dog changed my entire perspective on life. He was a dog that could instantly make a room bloom as a flower would, but with joy. He loved life and those around him and that caused us to love him so much.

My first dog was named Toby, he was a very white, ball of fluff. He blended in with the shiny white crispy snow on December 25, 2006. My sisters and I were on our way home from my dad’s house when all of a sudden we pulled into my mom’s house. On Sunday, December 25, 2006, Toby was waiting at our house. We all got out of the car on that cold snowy day and walked on the slippery sidewalk. The snow was like a chilling carpet on the bottoms of our feet. My mom opened the door with a camera so my sisters and I knew something was up. A shocking step in the house and we saw a very fluffy dog, we were very excited. He was like a deer in headlights. There was a bunch of screaming and yelling going on at that moment between the three of us. We

“Zooee! Come downstairs NOW!” That’s my mother. She gets mad about everything. I should probably go downstairs, but I’m caught up in a whole lot of homework. “Coming,” I replied, so she knew I was on my way. I scattered all my homework back into two neat piles and clipped them together with paper clips-one pile is finished work, and the other is unfinished. I ran out my door and hurried downstairs, not caring to turn off my lights. “What is it?” I asked, knowing it could be anything. “Your dog peed on the rug again,” she said, with a mad attitude, “When will you potty-train your dog?” My dog is a full blood black lab, and I named her Chloe. “Come on mom, she’s only twelve weeks old, and I’m working on it,” I replied. “Well, I’m getting tired of having to be careful where I step, not knowing where your dog did her business.” “Will you please stop calling her ‘your dog’? Just call her Chloe, so she gets used to the name.” “Fine,” she agreed “and by the way, your dog keeps going into that ‘haunted house’ down the street,” she added. I sighed.