When I was two years old, Mom and Dad got me the best gift ever. A puppy! Boy, was I excited. When I first met her, I gave her a big head butt and she rolled across the grass. Then she got up, ran back at me and bit my leg. Yes! We may have had Boxer ancestors, but deep in our hearts, we were Wrestlers.

Mom and Dad said the puppy was born in Hungary and a man brought her litter to Istanbul to sell them as ‘rare black boxers’. Mom said there was no such thing…but they got her anyway because she was so cute and they were a little worried about what might happen to her if no one else wanted her. They named my new puppy Punch. Rumbles and Punch. We were inseperable… playing, eating, snoozing … we did everything together. Mom said we were the perfect pair.

I must admit that she was a much better watchdog than I was. She would cruise through the house at night, going from window to window, checking for danger. Mom called it patrolling the perimeter. Dad said he was glad at least one of us wouldn’t kiss the burglars.

We moved to America when I was three and Punch was one. It was a long trip. Kind of scary in our crates in the noisy plane. But Mom made the airport man promise that our crates would be side by side. That helped.

We settled into our new house and life went on.  We played with our kids. We went to the park. We snuggled with each other. I licked Punch’s face after dinner. Happy dogs.

But then Punch started acting different. She growled at me sometimes. She stopped playing tug of war. She would sit in the corner facing the wall. Mom took her to the vet and found out that Punch had Cushing’s Disease. Bad news, Mom said. Punch took pills, and got better for awhile. Then she started falling down and a couldn’t get up…Mom called it a seizure. Oh, it was terrible. We were all scared. Afterward, Punch would just sit and look at Mom without moving. One night, I heard Mom tell Dad that she believed Punch’s stares were a plea for help. A few days later, Mom hugged me one morning and told me to say goodbye to Punchie. Then they left and Mom and Dad came back later without her. I looked and looked for her. Checked every room. Went upstairs, downstairs, into the yard. Mom gave me lots of hugs and kisses and dropped tears on my head. After a long time, we started to feel a little bit less sad. We still miss her. Mom said that Punch is all better now… she’s being a good old girl and patrolling the perimeter in doggie heaven.