My Main Bitch

Meet Bella. She is the best dog in the world. She is also my best friend. She is three years old. Believe it or not, this lady is responsible for  completing my perfect childhood. Ever since the day I knew a cat from a dog, I begged my parents daily for a puppy. Every child wants a puppy, right? I took it to the next level. I use to borrow the entire "dog information" collection from the library. I diligently studied books, websites and even took notes off Animal Planet when a dog show was on. By the age of nine, I was confident in how to choose and train the perfect dog. My parents cleverly attempted to silence my whining, so they made a deal with me: If I could save up one thousand dollars, I could buy myself a dog. Little did they know, my goal was a bit more serious than they thought. I reached my goal by fifth grade (by earning three dollars an hour "mother's helper-ing"). However, it wasn't until the summer going into my freshman year that I had cried enough, guilted my parents enough and found the perfect dog breed and breeder at the perfect time. Then came Bella. She is perfect. She is my main bitch.