June 1st 2008, my oldest dog, Max, died. I had woken up that morning and then I was alerted to the information by my mom. Seeing his body just lying there was pretty hard to handle.

18 years ago was when my first dog, Max, had been run over. It was pretty hard to handle at five years old, but my parents said that we'd look for a new dog. We found out that one of the farmers near our house was selling Siberian Husky pups, but they told us that all the pups were currently spoken for. We were still allowed to come down and check out the pups, on the hope that someone might not take one puppy.

When we got there, they had soon told us that someone didn't come to pick up the male puppy they had wanted and we were free to take him if we wanted. We never got a chance to see him with other pups at that moment, but he was a small puppy. My parents didn't want to think of a new name and wanted to just name him Max; I was outraged at the thought of just passing Max's old name off onto another dog, so I argued with my parents until they agreed to name him Maximillion, and to call him Max for short.

I never had any real friends while growing up, so it felt like Max was my only actual friend growing up. He was someone I could tell all my secrets to and someone to comfort me when I was feeling down. Over the years, we got Max a female Husky named Kita. Max and Kita had 7 litters of puppies, one pup becoming our big Husky Malamute cross, Draco (Max is part Malamute on his mother's side). In March 2008, we got a small Husky puppy named Eira and Max loved being around her because she made him feel young in these last months of his.

Max...you will be missed more than anything and I will always love you.