by Dannie Muterspaw
For eight years I had a Boxer named Zonka. To me he seemed to be the best dog ever. He slept at the foot of my bed and kept me nice and harm. Although he was a dog and was unable to speak back t me, I always went to him to tell him about my day, my problems, and my deepest most darkest secrets (because I knew he wouldnt tell anyone). Zonka became very sick, for three weeks we went through x-rays , and etc. He soon was diagnosed of cancer. Three days later he died, and I miss him dearly. Everyone thinks Im weird but I can still hear his bark once in a while , and I still talk to him. Zonka was a big part of my life, but the day he died I lost a big part of myself. But I know that he is in a safe a safe place, and out of is misery. Just as long as he knows that I love him. Soon we will meet on Rainbow Bridge and be together again.