Trixie Trouble Griffith; Trix; Sweetiepuff; Trixadon; Silly Mutt; Muttface; Puffernick; Dilly Sog; Dummydog; Fuff; Puff; Dogdog; and so many other nicknames-all for this silly pure-bred rat terrier that I got for Christmas when I was in 2nd Grade.

I still remember that night, it was not as cold of winter as some. Mum and dad had stopped fighting for a while since it was the holidays, and dad had something he was very excited about-though he didn't tell me what. Saturday evening rolled around, and we all piled into the van and drove a little ways out of town. Dad was nearly dancing as he guided me to this little shed that had a fence crudely made out of plywood out in front. As we got closer there were yips and whines that started to clue me in. Dad looked at each of them before finding the one he had picked out earlier-a little black-and-white female with a white-tipped tail-just like Tippy, the dog my parents got before I was born and had died a year previous. Dad plopped the puppy into my arms and told me merry christmas. I was so happy-it was more than I ever thought I'd get for a present and I didn't let that puppy go until we got home-not that the puppy minded, as it covered my face in kisses.

Trixie, as I named her finally, was always the troublemaker, earning her middle name "Trouble". She chewed up most of my dolls' legs. never truly listened to her potty training, ate as much people food as she could, whined and barked, and was a coward whenvever somebody came into the house. She didn't like walks or company, but she was your best friend whenever you felt sad. She got out a few times when we first had her, but as soon as she heard me bawling she'd be running back to lick my tears and come back inside for some goodies. She was horrible at the vets (they had to muzzle her, but she could take that muzzle off lickity split) and didn't like going in the car (which it usually met the vet or the kennel). She always lost weight when we were gone (we called the kennel the "Fat Farm") but gained it all back to be a little tubby hippo as soon as we got back.

When my family broke up a few years ago, I stayed with my mum while dad took Trix. I haven't seen her much except when I can go visit them or my dad would bring her to me for my birthday. This year it's iffy that she'll make it to my birthday. My dad called me earlier to tell me she's not in a good way, and every day is surprising that she's still alive. She's over 14 years old, so she has had a good, long life, but it's still awful hard to hear that your pet is going to pass on soon. I'm pathetic and am just sitting here trying to get up and do homework or something so I stop crying....