This is for Kyri-sama's challenge. Just felt like I needed to vent some feelings. Thanks for giving me this opportunity. 
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I swore up and down that a 105 year-old lady had beaten me time and again in running. My friends didn't doubt my claims since I was as slow as mess. But then again, not many people outside my circle of buddies have the attention span to listen to my nostalgic and often outlandish tales. However, every word of what I spoke was true. If you don't count that the lady beating me could run on all fours and wasn't even human!
Ever since I could remember, my neighborhood has been a "loose zoo", if you could call it that. Animals of all shapes sizes sauntered about the rural landscape coming, going and sometimes leaving as they pleased. Don't get me wrong! Most were local pets and had mild disposistions, but sometimes it was intimidating having a big Dalmation or Bulldog stumble up to a young child like me. But all it took was one dog, followed by many others, to change my outlook on man's longest known creature, helper, and friend.
I remember being close to six years old. I had lost my first puppy to a car that was driving by. I felt like someone had torn every strand of my heart, doused in in kerosine, and made me watch it burn. A part of my childhood had been stripped away forever. I felt like trash. Later in my grief, someone wandered into my yard as casual as if she owned the place. Her squat frame and homely, dark brown and black, shaggy coat gave her a humbly endearing appearance. This dog saw me and shuffled around my feet. Her dark chocolate eyes were entrancingly human-like! Without anyone else to keep me company, I talked to the odd pup. As I soon found out from my nextdoor neighbor, her name was Abby. Such a cute name. Such a wonderful, wonderful friend.
For the next 11 years, Abby had become a neighboorhood friend- a furry form of that cheery, sage-like Southern lady who seemed to exist to make you smile. Whenever I received a poor grade on a test or incurred my mom's wrath, she would waddle over the hill and observe. Then, as quick as a racing hound, she ran up to my legs- tail wagging in a circular motion- with a warm grin and licked whatever she could to get my attention. Another way my family could predict her sudden aproach was her distinct...smell. Yes, you heard me! The dog stank to high heaven! Good Lord. It was nasty. You see, my neighbor would throw his old food into his backyard were the water run-off stayed. Apparently, Abby had some strange love of that slop and would roll in it for hours at a time! Yeck. You could smell her coming almost 50 yards away! But that never stopped us from loving her. That wonderful moocher always loved to whine for any scrap of food or dog treat she could get out of us. Honestly, if huge, brown eyes and a pitiful whine doesn't make your heart wrench, then you have no emotions. WHATSOEVER!!! And most of the time, she got her way. Even my grandparents couldn't resist her subtle charm! Truth be told she was more of a friend than most people I knew! She always proved this time and again.
Her visits grew to the point of daily ritual: Abby comes, gets treat/bellyrub, then leaves. They were a constant in my life. But recently, the visits had halted for nearly two full weeks. No tail nor funky stench to be found. I had been out of town for nearly three weeks with my parents. When we returned, I looked fervently out the window for any sign of "Ol' Stinky" as Abby was affectionatly dubbed. The depths of my mind were whispering "Death by old age, disease, etc.", but that was nothing new. The loss of pets was inevitable. For me, an unlucky certanty for most. I had come to accept that Abby was an old dog and she didn't jump about like she used to. Death was reality, and I grudgingly let it come to collect whenever it was time. But I'm an optimist by nature, so I hoped for the best. Hopes are all too easily dashed. I found out by my concerned dad's phone call to the neighbors that Abby had been struck by a passing car during the night. I was so shell-shocked ( I had just returned from feeding my own dogs), that I walked back out the door and petted my lovely pups and told them how much I loved them. All the while praying and reminiscing of those sweet, stinky Halcyon days. It seemed that life had come full circle since my first puppy to now Abby. You may thing this strange, but I didn't cry a tear. Not one drop. Of course I had lost a dear, dear friend, but my tolerance of death had both softened and hardened my heart. I accepted that she had left this world, but at the same time, had progressed to where she would most certainly make the Next World a better place. Good God, I'm crying now. Crud, I'm such a sap. 
Haha. I later heard that she didn't die on the cold, unforgiving road, but in another neighbor's toolshed. She had crawled all the way across two yards and passed away where she saw fit! This old dog had defied all sense of hopelessness! Her death was not in vain, for sure. She had shown me how much power we have, both humans and creatures, to decide what needs to be done. We need to comfort, to love, to cherish, and to never give up. Abby has been a prominant factor in my life. She has taught me so much, and I'll continue to do so. As long as I and everyone else she has met remembers her, she will never, ever truly die.
R.I.P, Abby
We miss you.
