In 2007, we got a new addition to our family. Bluberi was an early birthday present. I've only ever had good memories with her. Now, in 2013, we've got another new addition. The memories Hazel is making are not matching up with Blu's.

Pointer, English Setter, and possibly Bernese, her looks make her stand out, and some confuse her for a boy. Her nose is usually black and wet, with the occasional hint of dirt. A continual path of black dots on her white fur start at the tip of her nose, which slips beneath the black bridge coming from her ears and across her head, and ends just before the kink in her tail. They follow to her paws, too. The soft, long, white fur that cloaks her pink skin can come off in clouds with a pat on her back or the wind blowing, leaving every place she visits with its own coat. Her one hundred and seven pounds acts like a scary mask, but her big, lazy smile shoos that away. She has grown into her ears. Her bark is low and loud, so she only ever has to give one or two. Her broken tail, with fur strands hanging like the leaves of a willow tree, wags nonchalantly back and forth when she walks, but when we come home, it moves in wide circles, greeting us. Her ears change with her mood. They can be alert, almost triangular, with a young child's curiosity. They can be forced back by an unknown and feared sound. They can lay relaxed, rounding her head.

When her tongue lays lazily out of her mouth, reminding me of the laughing hyenas in The Lion King, and I am filled with comfort, security, and the feeling of home. Her hugs have the power to cheer up a whole country. Right before I go to bed, I lay down on my scratchy carpet with her. She puts of front paw over my shoulder. I'll lay my head on hers, and listen to her snore.

On a cold day, my mother and I were shopping. In front of Kroger was a group of rescue dogs, in their various crates and inside fences. Inside on fence sat two dogs, brother and sister, named Pirate and Bluberi (though at the time, it was spelled Blueberry). The first time I saw her, she was curled up in a ball, fighting the cold. I sat inside the fence with them for close to an hour, waking Pirate in the process. A few weeks later, on March 24th, 2007, we brought home Blu. That night, we took a picture of me, not as tall as 4'9 at the time, and Bluberi sitting in my lap. Her head barely reached my chin. The picture is blurry since she did not stop moving. At that age, she had less spots, though they were slightly blue. We were told she was named Blueberry because she looked like she had run through a blueberry patch.

A couple summers ago, she got really sick. She stopped eating. My mother tried feeding her everything. It took awhile for the doctors to figure out she had pancreatitis. The hardest part of her treatment was making sure she didn’t eat anything she wasn’t supposed to. She could only eat dog food or rice. While preparing my own food, she normally gets something from me. I felt bad dealing with food in front of her.

I don’t remember anything bad about her. She has always been perfect in my memory. That makes it harder to deal with newly adopted Hazel. I hope in six years time, I'll have only good memories of Hazel as well.