Perhaps this blog is the most emotional for me to write. At first, I thought it wasn't correct to mention it. But then it clicked into my mind that someone out there must know that I had a dog, named Bozo, and he was a great soul. (CALL THIS ONE A DIARY THINGY) Right now, it is 6:30 p.m. Today, Bozo was declared dead, at 11:35 a.m. At that time, I was in my school, enjoying, trusting that he was okay, because the night before, bozo started crying very loud as if almost seeking help. Bozo. At five-ish in the evening on 6th July, my dad got me a surprise. This little ball of fur, my Lhasa apso, bozo, looked at me with glittering eyes. I was little back then. Everyday I used to go to the park to play with my friends. But not that day. That day, I told my dad that I wouldn't go to play with them. I would play with Bozo. The snow cream with white and black mixture of colours. That little puppy was the best thing I ever had, and will ever have. On that evening, we enjoyed ...