“Woof! Woof!” roars a lively young puppy as he stands on his back legs, resting his front paws on the windowsill. He is easily part poodle, the way he can maneuver his way around the room on his back legs like a circus act of some sort. He is extremely alert and intelligent, with a sharp look in his eyes as they follow the people walking by the house.

“Buddy! Can you be quiet? I wish you wouldn’t bark so much.” complains my mom as she comes down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“You know he can’t help it, mom. If it weren’t for his sickness as a puppy, he would know better,” I correct her.At this point, my two sisters and brother slither into the kitchen, bringing along Buddy, our dog. Buddy saunters around in circles until he finally finds a suitable place to lie down; making a crashing sound as he sprawls out. My mom, with a cup of tea, and I find our way to the leather seats of the island.

“Do you remember when we first got Buddy?” asks my brother, Brendan, as he ties a decorative bandana around Buddy’s neck.

“I remember that day! It was one of the best times of my life! Back in fourth grade, after we went to pick out Buddy...” hollers Maeve, my twin sister, as she reminisces about that magical moment in our lives.

Buddy was born January 5th, 2008. Eight weeks later, a Thursday night, my sister, mom and I were at a health convention in the Wilmington High School gym. My brother and little sister were home, and my dad was apparently working late. When we got home, we were all sitting in the kitchen when my mom pulled out a camera. The green minivan roared up the slick driveway, making a crunching sound as it crushed the snow beneath its tires. The front door swung open. Through the door came the greatest surprise of my life; Buddy. We whooped and rejoiced; that was our dog.

Our celebration was short-lived, however. Buddy was lethargic; much like his brother was a few weeks earlier. Our exhilarated puppy was fading, and we were sick with fear. One night he couldn’t eat or even stand up. He seemed so miserable. As i peered into his eyes, I knew he was trying to tell me something. Dogs are marvelous at communicating, but only if someone listens to them. My dad rushed him to the Animal Hospital, where he was diagnosed with a rare disease called “Puppy Strangles”. It is a disease that causes swollen muzzles, lethargic behavior, and several other immune issues.My heart stopped when i found out. I thought I was going to lose my dog. Luckily it was treatable. It took almost a year to fully nurse him back to health, but thanks to my mom, Buddy recovered. Our dog was healthy once again. He had overcome his obstacles as a puppy and became stronger than ever.

“Now just three years later, and look at him!” I conclude. We begin to pat Buddy and tell him that he is a good boy. Buddy wags his tail and everybody begins to disperse. As he lies down, i gratefully admire him. I was so proud; that’s our dog.