I nearly fell out of my chair. I was so joyful, when I got a new puppy. She was so cute. She was a baby pitbull. Her name was Jazzy. I loved her so much. When I got her I was about five or six.
I played with her every day. We had a blast. I taught her to fetch, play dead, beg, roll over, and do flips over things. She was a good dog. She protected me. When ever I went out by the road she would bark and yip so my mom would come out and get me.
When she was about two years old we had to get rid of her. I weeped for weeks. I missed her a lot. I would cry myself to sleep every night. Then we got her back. I was so happy. We had her for about one year, and then one night I went out to feed her. She was not moving. I ran in and got my mom. She told me that she was dead.
The people we gave her to did not feed her. They beat her every day. They fed her once a week. But I am glad she is dead and not in pain any more. Besides I know she is in a better place now. I know that no one is hurting her any more. So that's what happened to my dog Jazzy.