My Hero

After many days of staring and running my hand on the slim surface of my German and French poodle folder, my parents' friend calls my dad...It was a hot, ordinary day in Yucatán, Mexico. Driving on a bumpy road through villages and forests with my parents' friends. The sound of chatting in the car, the songs of birds in the air, and the humid breeze hitting our faces through the open window. Then, the chatting in the car slowly fades away as the driver declares that we have reached our destination. Car doors slide automatically on both sides. We hop off the transportation and walk towards a straw hut. We hear a movie playing in the room, the front door squeaks open. As the old Mexican lady shows us the way to the back room, my little sister and I squeal in excitement. In the midst of the silence, we hear barking noises growing louder and louder as the woman comes with a box. Inside the box, there were three German and French poodle mix puppies. The ones that look exactly like the poodles in my folder! The puppies were two males and one female. Our friends and us, hold the three options, discussing which one we should keep. To make the long story short, my mom chose one of the males. Full of regret, not getting the female, we drove home. As the clumsy puppy sniffs my house, we begin to discuss what his name should be.

"Caramel?"

No

"How about Cookie?" (Super common)

No

"Dash?" (Inspiration from the Incredibles)

No

"How about Furball?"

No, maybe Fluffy

*Screams* "YES!"

So, that was and is his name up to this day.

He was the perfect puppy for us, except for the fact that he always tends to pee whenever he gets on the hammock. My sister and I were home-schooled because there were no good schools around our village. We learned through videos taken of classrooms in Florida. As I watched children laughing and playing class games with teachers, I couldn't help but feel lonely. But I always had Fluffy. He was my best friend. Whenever I was called "Chinese" (because I am Asian) by the Mexican kids and laughed at, I would cry and run back home. I would lean my head on my dog as I cried. Fluffy would always lick my tears away. He was always there for me. He would tilt his head sideways when I talked to him. He would look straight at my eyes as if he was staring straight into my feelings. But, one day, my sister came bursting into the house from the backyard. She screams for my mom and I to come and see. We jog to the back and our eyes follow her finger pointing to our dog's poop covered with blood. We gasp, but Mom tells us that he will be okay. The next day, Fluffy starts to vomit blood and not take any food. We cried as our young puppy suffered. Tears came pouring down as we saw him trembling to vomit blood. Dad takes him to the vet. The veterinarian reports to my parents that he has a disease in which 90% of the dogs die, but my sister and I are not given any news. My mom just tells us to pray. We do and Fluffy is left in the vet. All we could do in the waiting days was to think of all the precious memories we had together, and if we would ever have a friend again. After several anxious days, Fluffy comes back newer than ever. We laugh and cry with joy of seeing our little brother, our best friend, healed and happy. Days of happiness roll back into our childhood. Days into months, months into years, years into six years total. Oh, yes, Mexico was the best. Adventure filled our days together. Waking up in the morning with the joy of seeing my dog and ending up to be disgusted with the prize he had for us. Usually, a bird, a lizard, a rat, or a possum. Fluffy always protects us. He jumped in front of the nasty roosters trying to peck us. Fluffy got pecked instead of us and got a bloody nose.

There were special events like when my dog warned us of something and the next moment, my dad is putting a rattlesnake in a bottle with one stick. Events like when Fluffy warned my neighbors of something under a blanket-covered storage. The next second, my neighbor lifts the blanket and two hens come running out of the storage. Then, my dog goes running into the storage and comes with a huge, pregnant possum with blood running down his throat. WOW. If I could tell you all the adventures that happened in Mexico, it would take me time until the next Olympics happen. Okay, one more, please? (sorry) So, there was this village boy who came to our house one day. He sells fried crackers. Our family bought everything that was in his sales bag because we felt bad for him. We were grateful for the crackers. But the moment we bit into the crackers, OH! what a taste! The taste of refried crackers with old oil. The next hour, our family members went to the restroom one by one. From then on, the boy kept on coming to our house screaming, "GALLETAS FRITAS!!!". We had enough of this boy and his screaming. I think Fluffy has enough of it, too. Do you know what he did? He was somehow unleashed and the first thing he did when he heard his voice was run up to the boy. The next thing he did was bark in his face like a ferocious dog. The boy starts to scream and my dog grabs his shoe and starts playing with it; throwing it around. When my dog tries to reach for his other slipper, the boy screams, "SANTA MARIA, SALVAME!!!" He runs away and never ever comes back. That was funny, wasn't it? Now, to be continued...

Our family moved to Costa Rica and lived there for two years. Now, we are living in the United States of America. Fluffy has never failed to be by our side. Even through life's challenges, he always let me lay my (now) heavy head on his body. He still licks my salty tears away. Fluffy has always been an emotional support to me, a best friend, and a little baby brother. Most of the time, I feel like he is a real person by the way he acts. He looks into your eyes and wags his tail all the time. Fluffy expresses his feelings in many different ways, I wish you could see him. The way he looks guilty, the way he tries to act all cute when there is another dog and he brings his favorite toy to your lap. The way he nudges your hand and pushes your hand to pet him. The way he jumps and gallops after he showers.

I... I can't really describe him in words. I wish I could. I want to show you my little baby brother and my best friend. I wish I could express why I love him so much. In the pictures, I tried to capture all his characters in one, but it seems impossible. As you look at the gallery I took in a few days' time, I hope you can try to feel and see how he is.

I might not be a great writer, and a great grammarian, but I hope you enjoyed your roller coaster ride with us. This article, I write for my mom who is working hard to provide for my sister and I. Thank you for doing the best for my sister and I. I love you, Mom. And of course, for Fluffy. You will always be in my heart, boy. Love ya!