Johnson was about the greatest dog I could ask for. The first time I ever saw him, I was almost four. Most people can't remember a time that long ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I had wanted a dog for my birthday ever since we had to give away the first dog I ever knew, K.C. I was born with her in the house, and I loved her so much. But she couldn't come close to Johnson. I forget what we did when we walked into the pound, but I do remember seeing a little ausie and border collie mix puppy in the last cage on the left. I looked into his eyes and asked if I could bring him out into the play yard. After not five minutes, I knew he was the perfect dog. About a week later, on my birthday, my dad brought home a cage with a yapping little puppy in it. I decided to call him "Johnson". Over these last eight years, we shared too many good times to count. We played many games like tug-of-war with a sock, hide and go seek, and wrestling. Walks were wonderful, he was such a good boy. When my family and I were eating dinner, he would sit by the table and beg for food. His puppy eyes (which he kept his whole life) forced us to give him a few small scraps after dinner. He would eat it so quickly, I wondered how he didn't get a stomach ache! He found pleasure in such simple things, and I admired him for that. He was the best dog ever. Then, the sad day came. My family and I went on a ski trip Thursday, February 12th, dropping Johnson off at a great kennel that we trusted and that he had stayed at a few times when we went somewhere. We got back Monday night, and it was too late to go pick him up, so we decided to do it on Tuesday, the 17th. Unfortunatly, I had to go to school, so my mom would pick him up, and I'd see him after school (suposedly). She picked me up two periods early that day, and I wondered why. When I got in the car, I could sense something was wrong. "Nick," my mom said, "Johnson's dead." I was so shocked, I almost fainted. Fortunately, he died during the night, peacefully, and I got to see his body that afternoon. I tried to fight throught the tears, but I couldn't hold back. I found myself crying a lot over the next two days. He had died at such a young age, eight, and it had been so sudden! I couldn't stop thinking about him. He had been such a wonderful dog, he had brought so much joy into all of our lives. I looked at a lot of pictures and old video tapes we had of him, and it seemed to help a little. I thought of the good times we shared, and that helped a little, too. What really helped, however, was reading the poem, "The Rainbow Bridge." It touched me, and I thought of the day Johnson and I would be reunited. I'll always be sad about his death, but I'll never forget the times we shared. Johnson was much more than a dog to me, he was my best friend.