We all have little things in our life that are completely insignificant to anyone else, but mean the world to us. Things we take great pride in. We look back on them, and find ourselves smiling uncontrollably, laughing randomly in public, or talking about them so much, that our friends, while rolling their eyes, recite to us our own stories backwards. If you’re an animal person like me, you take special pride in you’re pets, no matter how doofy they are. You call up your best pal to rave about the new trick Charlie just did, and if your friends are like mine, they just end up boasting about how well behaved Fifi was on her trip to the groomer’s. It somehow becomes a never ending battle of who has a more amazing pet, and in the end, they’re all amazing and special to us in different ways.

Now to begin my story, I’m a 16 year old girl who is about to gloat and boast about her horse John Ruby. Two years ago, when I only had a small, red Arabian, I went with my grandma to a farm of red Quarter Horses where we picked up two new horses, one whose name was John Ruby, and the other whose name became Bailey. John was a good sized, beautiful, sorrel horse with three white stockings, a white blaze on his face, and poor vision. He was by all means, the complete definition of a twit. He’d lick me in the face, and chew my hair if I ignored him. When I rode him, he’d occasionally get nervous and spin in a million circles, and he cantered in a fashion that would make me lean to one side. Over time his vision got worse, and he was diagnosed with UV-itis in one eye and a cataract in the other. Everyone who met John was touched by him, although we acquired more horses, he remained the barn favorite. Friends would come over, and fall in love with his sweet personality. He’d let us take turns trying to run and leap onto him, and he’d tolerate our trying to do ridiculous tricks on his bare back. Everyone loved John, and John loved everyone. Sometimes I’d lie on his back in his stall and love him, and he’d just stand there and love me back. More than once would I hop off of him, post ride, and beam at him with pride for something incredible he did. He was such a great horse, and so impressive despite his vision loss. I often found myself calling friends to tell them his silly, but amazing tales. He trusted me and I trusted him, and as rider and horse, I feel we had a special bond that couldn’t be broken. My grandma and I would joke about our goofy horse, and we made up a song that went, “John, John, John of the pasture, watch out for that tree!” Never did I think that a tree would actually be the cause of the most depressing moment of my life.

Sunday, March 2^nd, the last night of my school play, I ran through all of my acts completely oblivious to the fact that anything had gone wrong. On the way home, mom delivered bad news. John had run into a tree and collapsed, and he could not get up. I felt numb. My immediate reaction was to be with him, and mom took me to my grandma’s to spend the night with him. When I finally saw him, at about 10pm, he was lying on his side struggling to get up but couldn’t move his back legs. My heart instantly broke and I sat there petting him, crying and hoping with every inch of me that he would get up. It was dark and chilly, and he had a blanket draped over him and a pillow for his head that he kept biting and tossing. The longer we sat there the more he struggled to get up so we went to inside in hopes that he would rest. At the time I was so sure that he would be okay by morning. We checked him a couple more times that night, and eventually we went to sleep. The next morning, we went out to see him and I decided to sit with him. We replaced his pillow with a thick blanket that he couldn’t throw, and wiped off the dirty side of his face. He whinnied at me a few times and tossed his head, but showed no further signs of improvement. I sat with him and cried, and talked to him, and sang to him. I still had hope that he would get up. Tired, I laid down and slept on his neck for what seemed like an hour or two, until the vet eventually showed up and gave him an IV. He, among many vets told us that there wasn’t much hope for him, but we wished still that he would get up. Some of our friends came to help, and we had to flip him over to keep his blood circulating. The side of his face that he’d been laying on was cut up and raw from struggling that night, and his eye was swollen shut. Since it was supposed to rain, we threw a big plastic tarp over him. His breathing was slow, and we began to loose that hope that we were once so full of. Bailey poked her head out of her stall and watched, and she too knew that something was wrong. There was nothing else, however, that could be done. Later that evening, the vet returned and I asked him what he thought. There were crosses and hearts carved in the dirt around our poor horse, and Dr. Eddie looked at him, then looked at me with a face of disappointment, and delivered to me the words that I wished I never had to hear. John had to be put down. By now, everyone was outside with us, and my grandma, through tears of her own discussed the options with the vet, while I laid over John trying desperately to muffle my cries. I wanted to hold him forever. Everyone said their goodbyes to John, and it all seemed so surreal. The sky was dark and cloudy, and John, breathing barely, told us he was ready. When everyone went to walk away and let the doctor do his job, I felt in my heart that I could not leave him, so I asked to stay with him. “Are you sure?” I was asked, “Yes, I’m sure.” I simply could not leave him. When the doctor knelt down with his injection, it started to rain, almost as though it was God’s way of mourning for us. I held my sweet John and cried while stroking his face and telling him it was okay. “I love you John, don’t you ever forget that, it’s okay to go John, just let go, baby.” That was all I could find to say. I told him stories of his victories, and hugged him, and waited for the drug to work. I just held him and waited, waited for what seemed like hours. Eventually, I looked up and I knew… he was gone, and I couldn’t believe it, my beautiful John, died, in my arms. He was there… and then he was gone. I felt like my world had been ripped apart. He was still there, but it wasn’t him anymore. I never wanted to stand up. I wanted to hold him forever. He wasn’t gone, he couldn’t be, but he was. Letting him go, being the one to hold him and tell him it was okay to die, was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. Having to get up and walk away from my poor John in the rain was the worst despair I thought I would ever feel. But I have that memory now, to know that as he was my companion, and he was there for me when I needed him most, I can say that I was there for him too. I was with him to the very end and I would never ever take that back. I have great stories about that horse. I’m so proud of him. I tell everyone about our silly adventures… over and over and over. It’s those little silly things I boast about that keep him alive in my heart, and in the hearts of everyone who hears about him. I hope that you’re touched by the story of John Ruby, and that you’ll brag about your own John, and no matter what happens, promise that you’ll be there till the end, because you know that your John would do the very same for you.

I am a 16 year old Mom.

If you are like me, your pets are your babies. In my case, I am a 'mother' to many, and what is even more interesting is I get to be a foster mommy!

What is it like to foster dogs? I'll tell ya!

In total, I've gotten to assist the fostering of 11 dogs and most of the time it's pretty sweet. Fostering dogs and puppies is when you save them from tough situations (most often euthanization) and take care of them in your house until you can find them a good loving home. I feel as though I get to enjoy the best part of fostering because I always have new puppies to play with & sleep with! Fostering puppies is a great experience. Of course puppies poop and pee and destroy and whine and occasionally attack your ankles with razor claws and needle teeth, but those are all the fun things that you get to teach them not to do! Puppies are a lot of work, but with a lot of love & some hard core training, you get the opportunity to watch them turn into well mannered young dogs!

Everyone in my family has a special job. I see it like this:

Daddy-The poop cleaner and the feeder:

He's the real heart of this team! He takes care of all the gross stuff us girls don't like and he keeps puppy tummies happy and full! This job is NOT easy guys, puppies poop a lot!

Mom-The manner teacher:

Mom teaches the puppies basic house manners, such as sit for a treat, don't jump, don't take food, and don't bite! She's a great asset in the pup perfecting process!

Swee' Pea (Dog)- The Nanny:

She plays with the puppies & keeps them entertained but at the same time she keeps them in line, makes them more social & teaches them when enough is enough! Since she will never have pups of her own, she loves her job!

Abby (sister)- The Tamer:

My two year old sister who jumps on, pokes, sits on, lays on, yells at, squeezes and Elmira's the puppies. This teaches them to be very calm and kid friendly.

Mema (The Grandma)- The Spoiler: (she's very important)

She comes over for regular visits and teaches the puppies the value of being spoiled! She gives them extra love, kisses & treats! Every puppy needs to be spoiled by grandma!

Me-The Attacher:

I take the puppies in my room for naps & pictures or while I do homework or watch TV. I also let them sleep with me which polishes them off in having the complete loving package! I feel that the most important ingredient is love! I am the attacher because I'm the one getting attached and bawling my eyes out when they find new homes!

 I have a special place in my heart for all of our foster dogs! Fostering puppies is a great experience for the whole family, and it saves lives. I love being a foster Mom & always having puppies! Watching crazy pups make the transformation into family friendly dogs is a great feeling, & although it sucks to let them go, seeing them make some other little kid happy & knowing they will always have a good home and that I got to help make that happen is the best feeling in the world.

By Tessa Scandizzo