Descriptive Essay About A Puppy

Sometimes in the world of raising dogs for the show circuit events, do not always turn as expected. on April 22, 2007 in Buffalo New York a litter of Sheltie puppies was born. Out of the litter came two perfectly sized pups, one oversized pup and one undersized pup. At the end of six weeks one of the pups with show prospects was sent to a home in Altadena, California. The other correctly sized pup was shipped to a home in Clearwater, Florida. Because the large puppy could not become a show dog, he was sold as a pet. Several people who came to purchase a possible dog for show looked at the small pup but, they all said right away,"she is pretty but she is just too small". However, a young handler said, "I will take a chance on her". Amazingly

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.

The night before the first day of school, my mama gave me my first house key.

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.

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.

He was a Lab-mix, half-black and half-brown, with pointed ears, short legs, and wild, hungry eyes. About a week after my father came home with him from the airport, the five-pound bundle of destructive energy single-handedly tore apart one of the bean-bag chairs in the family room. When we found him covered in white tufts, rolling in the carcass of his recently decimated prey, both my brother and I found it apt to change his name from Chase to Spaz. It suited the ravaging look on his small, adorable face.

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

I watch as Lucy jumps from rock to rock with her feet bare. Memphis following closely behind her. Anyone would think he’s her dog by the way he acts all love sick around her. The dog is damn well smitten by her. Hell, I swear I nearly have to fight him for Lucy’s attention at night when we’re watching TV. As soon as she takes her seat on the couch after dinner he’s straight up next to her, resting his big head on her lap as her fingers automatically start patting him.

I love dogs and I’ve always wanted a cute fuzzy one of my own. However, my mom refuses to let me get a dog unless she doesn’t have to life with it. Even though my mom thinks they’re cute, she still dislikes touching dogs and thinks that they cost too much money.

I was sitting at my desk at 8:00 p.m. on a Sunday night trying to think of something I’m passionate about. I turned to my cat, who at the time was sitting on the floor next to me, and gave him a quick scratch on the head. After he thanked for the scratch by sticking his tail straight up in the air I thought, “Well here is my passion right here.” There is nothing more precious to me than my cat.

Growing up, nothing has been more interesting to me than the animal world. Animals vary in size and shape, they adapt to specific environments, and they all have unique relationships with one another. These things fascinate me. I can’t determine when this obsession grew in me but I can remember my four year old self, drawing every animal I can think of, from moose to flamingos. I would watch nature documentaries whenever I could find them on while flipping through the channels on the television. Frogs were most likely the first animal I went hands on with. My grandma, who lives up north, lives right off a lake and has a pond on her property. In this pond were countless frogs of different variety. The most common were bullfrogs (Rana catesbeiana), but occasionally there were green frogs (Rana clamitans) too.

I call her the beast. A little, stubby-legged Pit Bull, that devours toys and household items alike. When she runs, she stumbles over her short legs in her excitement. She has a stomach of steel. Items she’s consumed include a whole chicken carcass, glass, protein powder, and a George-Foreman grill. On the other hand, she has to eat special kibble or she will throw up. If not given enough, meaning all, of my attention, she will crawl closer until she’s entirely on my lap, head pushed into my face. She drinks at least five gallons of water a day, consequently, she pees about five times a day. Her toys are chewed until they are indistinguishable, parts strewn across the carpet floor like a massacre. She has also marked the floors with her urine, puke, and waste. She's a beast, a devil dog, a bringer of mass destruction. I wouldn't have her any other way.

My mom asked me for the first time time in a long time”Do you want your very own pet,”since i was eight years old i have wished that i wanted a dog for my first pet, and the time finally came.So i answered back to her and i of course said “YES” i want my very first pet.So i went to go put my shoes on and as i was putting them on i was thinking back when i was six years old that i begged my mom to get me a dog.I put on my shoes and waited in the car for her,I eagerly wanted someone to play with instead of playing with no one.I could imagine how much fun i would have playing fetch with him and having him running after me because i had his toy,those would have been good moments, but now i can finally experience how those moments would feel the opposite way.The day had come.

My pet dog, Lola is a very interesting dog. We really don’t know much about her, but we