First there was two, one was called Tom, and the other, Bill, after the lead guitarist and vocalist of the German band Tokio Hotel. Who I'm talking about, you ask? It's none other than my two little puppies. Tom has patches of brown fur on white, while Bill has black patches over white.
The saddest thing happened about two days before my birthday. We lost Bill. My sis, mom and I scoured the whole neighborhood but we couldn't find him. Initially we were sad, furious at whomever that took him and devastated for his loss, but we had to move on.
So there was one, Tom, who is very much loved by everyone in my family. I come home from a tiring day at work, and light up just to see him prancing about my feet. Sometimes, he does the cutest things. Like the other day, as I was lazily lounging on the sofa watching his antics, where he seemed to be hyperactive and running around the house.
Suddenly he realized I was lying on the couch, so he came and stood there looking at me. I said 'hi', and he jumped on me to lick my face. I screamed and he ran away continuing his sniffing around.
I like the way he'd perk up when I drive in the house, wagging his tails, as if so happy to see me. And when we eat, don't even get me started. He'd sit right at our leg and wait for us to feed him. If we don't then he'll sit outside and not look at us. Smart little spoilt puppy.
I'm so glad we decided to adopt him. He definitely made a difference in our lives.
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