Have you ever imagined how one thing can give you all the happiness in the world, and, when it goes away, take the happiness away? It was eleven years ago, my thirteenth birthday was around the corner and my parents had the perfect gift in mind; something that I had wanted forever, the thing that almost everybody considers their best friend - a dog.

I’d always wanted a dog just to have one; I never really thought I’d get one. My parents had a set plan; one Sunday morning they all decide to go shopping for a dog my dad had purchased for my aunt who lives alone. I selected a blue bed with red paws on it, a few clothes, a leash, dog food, toys and other stuff. We ate some lunch and took off for home. On our way home my parents kept questioning me about what I wanted for my birthday and what I wanted to do, as it was just 20 days away. We reached home and emptied the bags from the trunk. I waited patiently for the front door to be opened; looking at my parents giving me a sly smile made me curious and a little nervous, wondering if I was in trouble.

I strolled in and noticed an unfamiliar face resting on my sofa with a small golden Labrador in his arms, I shouted as the little puppy jumped out of his arms and came running towards me. I dropped the bags, bent down to lift the puppy in my arms and turned to my parents thanking them. That moment, when I held him in my arms, all my fears disappeared; I fell in love. I took him upstairs to my family and we all sat together deciding on a name and admiring his beauty. He had tiny coffee brown eyes that blended perfectly with his face, a shiny black nose with a dot of dark brown near his left nostril, sharp white teeth and a wagging tail.

Deciding a name was tedious I wanted to name him Oreo because that was my favorite biscuit back then, but my mom found it ridiculous to name a golden pup Oreo; she said that if we ever have a Dalmatian we could name him Oreo. Finally we named him Greg, because my elder brother’s favorite golfer was Greg Norman back then; it’s a silly explanation, I know.

That night I laid his bed on my bed and he slept like a baby like every night since then. I took him to the vet regularly for all his vaccinations and monthly check-ups. Greg was no different than a human baby; he had powdered milk the first few months, no bathing and all those other restrictions. Very soon he began teething; he started chewing all the furniture especially the wooden ones. His favorite furniture chew toy was the leg of the wooden chair and he lived up to that habit till he was almost five years old; he would crawl under the dining table when we all sat to eat, place his mouth on the chair I sit on and began to chew till someone heard him and tried to stop him. Till the ninth grade I bathed him myself every Sunday, but after the tenth with boards, S.A.T.’s and applying to a good university on my mind, I was too occupied to tend to him.

I received an acceptance letter from the University of Florida and I was all set to leave and return after a few months. It pinched me from within “what would I do without my baby?” Living there was expensive and Greg was getting old and needed someone to look after him. I was leaving for college; where would I have kept him? I cried for nights with this thought in my head but everyone kept telling me that I would be back in four years and he would be the same.

Returning home after four years gave me so much joy; Greg was ten years old by then. He was suffering from hypothyroid which seemed to be hereditary. That day he lay outside, under a shady tree; I sensed something was wrong and rushed him to the Vet. She said his arteries were blocked by fat and he wouldn't live that long and he would have to be under observation. Hearing that my heart died, I felt my body sinking inside the ground, I felt numb. Not a tear, not a word. I didn't know what I felt, I wasn't ready to lose him and I don’t think I ever would have been. He had been literally everything to me, a complete part of me. Call me lame, but I talk to him, he is the only one who knows everything about me, watching him go away was the hardest thing. The doctors tried operating that night to let him live for at least few more months as my parents requested. It failed. He died on the operating table right when they opened him up. As he went away he took a lot of me along; because he was very thing someone could wish for, he was my spark of happiness and life.