So today we had to put our family's dog, Chewbacca a.k.a. Chewy, to sleep. While it may seem sad, and it is, watching him these past days was not an easy thing to do. He just looked so miserable and he seemed to not have control over his actions anymore. But I would just like to say all the good things about him and how he has brought me joy throughout the past 9 years of life. When we first got Chewy I was in the third grade. My grandpa had come over and was sitting at the kitchen table with his jacket on. Once my brother and I were both home he opened up his jacket and out popped a little puppy. Chewbacca seemed fitting to call him since he was very furry and not known to us, he would go through a chewing phase later in his life where calling him Chewy was also fitting. He was super fun to play with and was a little fur ball most of the time. He would always jump around people's feet and would always jump on anyone. This was most apparent when my grandparents would come over and Chewy would just not stop bothering them. It was kind of humorous watching him jump all over my Grandma while she tried to call him down. He loved bread. More than anyone or any pet or any being I know. Sometimes he would refuse to eat his dog food just so we would give him bread. He also had an extreme love for pizza. He almost bit my mom's hand off once because he couldn't wait for the pizza to leave her hand before he sucked it down. Chewy also loved to play. We would sit on my mom's bed and just throw Chewy between us and he would make loud gargoling noises and attack us like he was a big lion. We would be forced to play until chewy got tired because he would not let us stop. And then we would play hide and seek with him. I would hide in my mom's closet and then my mom would say 'Where's Molly?' and he would run around the room trying to find me. Oh also my mom's bed is quite high off of the ground. Chewy was quite the small dog. So sometimes he would attempt to jump on the bed and then just fall down. Sometimes there would be laundry or boxes in his way, so he would jump up, slip on the boxes, fall down and bring everything with him as well. And whenever he got a haircut which was few and far between, he would spend at least two days recovering on my mom's bed. But it was always nice because then you could pet him all you wanted and he wouldn't mind at all. He sure did hate getting his hair cut. And most of the time I would feel bad whenever he would get to that gross hair state. But then he would get his hair cut and a week's worth of it growing in he was just the cutest dog. He was such a strange dog but I loved him. And while there are plenty of more memories and great things about him, I will just leave it saying that he is in a better place where he can eat bread and lick himself all he wants now. | 
