On my seventh birthday I got my first perra. Her name was Coco, she was just a few weeks old. We loved each other very much. My family had another/younger dog and his name was champion but champ for short. They were both boxers.
I went to per-school so every day after school I would always go to the backyard to see if Coco was okay and to play with her. I loved my puppy with all my heart. She was playful with everybody, she wasn’t shy towards anyone, and she was the nicest /sweetest dog ever.
Coco loved to climb over the fence, which was not a good thing. The pound would always find her roaming in the streets, but they would always bring her back. Until one time they called our house and said,’’ if we are called to get your dog again she is going to stay with us. My dad was worried, his plan was to keep her tied in the backyard with a long leash.
So when I was at school Coco was tied up and when I got home I would let her loose but only when I was playing with her. My dad made it very clear to my whole family that she could only be let loose when someone was in the backyard with her. He didn’t want the pound to get her again.
One day when I got home from school Coco wasn’t there. I didn’t think anything of it but, then again I was only seven years old. My sister saw me looking for Coco. She stood by me and said that she died but, I thought she was joking.
I went all day without knowing where my dog was. I had no idea where she was, until my parents said they wanted to talk to me about something important. I sat on the bed with a pillow on my lap when they told me the worst news ever. My dad told me she hung herself trying to jump over the fence. I turned to my side and screamed into the pillow on my lap.