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When I was five, my dog Beauty died. For years, I begged to have a puppy. As my tenth birthday neared, I decided that I wanted nothing more that a dog to call my own. But I became more and more unsure that my pleading was getting through to my parents. But sure enough, three days before my birthday, we went to the pound. I wanted them all, all the puppies, dogs, and cats, kittens, but my parents decided none was suited for us and we left ampty handed. The next day, we went back and came out with one more member of the family. Acadia, small enough to hold in your cupped hands, and her sister, twice the little runt's sise, had been neglicted and abused by their owner before being thrown away into a trach can at the age of two weeks. We got Acadia when she was six weeks and she has truned from a scared, cringing, silent, nrevous puppy to be a healthy, beautiful, kind, playful, enerjetic dog.

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