My Dingo turns 11.

Today marks Dingo's 11th Anniversary of his arrival in our life. He was put inside a tetra pack juice's box when he first came that Thursday afternoon 11 years ago. That small puppy in that box became my constant companion, my furred best friend. Years had passed, yet I still remember clearly how I nursed him when he cried on his first night with us, missing his mother perhaps. He grew up with me and we've through up's and down's together. I nurse his wounds whenever he gets into a fight with other dogs; he sits by my side whenever I cry silently in the corner or just staring at the stars wondering what lies ahead of us. When he came, I was only an innocent 10 year-old girl who badly wants a dog. Now I am a  21 year-old graduate who struggles to make a mark in this world. Dingo was my sibling, my best friend, my playmate, my pet. I affectionately love him so much. He may never speak a word but the wag of his tail whenever he sees me is priceless.