Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Ringo Winston Mocha
The saddest part of having a dog is the part I went through yesterday. I got Ringo as a present for my 16th birthday. (I said I would rather have a dog than a car. Thanksfully, my dad let me have both) He was 13 years old. At his peak, he weighed a whopping 130 pounds. He was a good dog, except when it thundered. He hated the thunder. And he hated the hair dryer because I scarred him as a puppy when I tried to use it to dry him after a bath. Oh and he hated bathes too and would run away from them. But he loved to swim especially in rivers. He loved to go on trips. He loved, I mean, LOVED french bread. (That is what he went after when he nipped at my niece and scarred her eyebrow). He really loved Watermelon and was the only dog that I knew that would eat it off of a fork. Ringo, buddy you will be missed. We love you!