I'm not sure how to start this, so I'll just start somewhere. We got Sumter in Monterey, California when we were living out there. I was 5 at the time. My dad was still in the army, I believe. I'm not sure what exactly prompted us to suddenly get a dog. But my dad wanted a German Shephard. I remember going into the pound and seeing all the cute little doggies. It was "I want this one... No, I want this one..." I really didn't care, I don't think. I wanted them all, but I knew I'd love whatever we got. My dad decided on Sumter. I can't remember much of what went on. There was some sort of conflict because some old crazy Mexican woman claimed to be Sumter's previous owner. He had run away and got snatched up by the pound. I don't remember anything about it, but my parents say she was crying and saying "I want my dog!" Well, obviously, they wouldn't let her have him.

I remember the day we got him. I always called Sumter my "daddy dog". And while this mess with this Mexican lady was going on, I remember being upset and crying, wondering if I'd ever get Sumter. Well, the day finally arrived. I just remember us walking out the door with him, after my parents did the paper work and all that jazz. He left his mark by peeing on the floor.

This was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Sumter was really my best friend. We were always together... *always*. You can see many pictures of us together. He was a friendly dog. He loved children. There are lots of little incidents I recall from my childhood. One time I was outside and had hurt myself and started crying. Sumter actually came up to me and licked me and comforted me. When we were about to move away from California and the moving truck men were there, Sumter got out of the house and chased a dog down the street. My mom and I ran after him, screaming and crying. Luckily, Sumter came back. My mom started fussing, saying it was probably just because he was thristy. heh.

Sumter watched me grow up. It was my freshman year of highschool that he died. We had to put him to sleep. Sumter had some form arthiritus. It was something that only came to German Shephards. At the time, they didn't have medication for it. It made their legs get all sore and they couldn't walk. Sumter was down for the rest of the time. He would be down on the floor, with a pillow under his head, whimpering and crying in pain. He couldn't get up or do anything. The doctor said it was best if we put him to sleep. This is probably the most difficult decision anyone could ever make. But we knew we had to do it.

We got Sumter cremated. His ashes are in a big black vase. My dad made a scrapbook of Sumter, putting all the pictures we had of him, in a photo album. My dad promised Sumter he'd name our next dog Monterey, where we got Sumter. He held true to his promise, yes.

I wish I knew then what I do now. Sumter was such a faithful dog. He gives the real definition to "family dog". I'll never have another dog like Sumter. He was way too special. It kills me that I'll never see him again. But I know he is waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge.

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