My dog Sunny passed away on Monday. He was two weeks shy of his fourteenth birthday.
I met Sunny shortly before my thirteenth birthday. Weeks of research, manipulation, and begging had paid off, and I had convinced my parents that I should get a Golden Retriever puppy. After looking at some newspaper ads, we contacted a veterinarian whose dog had recently given birth to a litter of puppies. By the time we scheduled a meeting, only two dogs were left. Sunny and I bonded quickly; I remember how he kept untying my shoes by tugging at my shoelaces. After being introduced to his mother, we went into the car, clutching Sunny so he wouldn't run into the street.
