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PUNCH Written by Walker Phillips 02/02/08 Punch was the name of the dog that belonged to my brother, Willie. My brother got Punch when he was a very young puppy. He named the puppy Punch because his fur was a reddish-orange color like the fruit punch juice. Punch was half collie and half German shepherd breed. He was a housedog, watchdog, and a companion for my brother. Punch liked dog food, but occasionally, he would get a treat, chicken bones to chew on. Sometimes, my brother would purchase chicken to eat for his dinner and would save the chicken bones as a treat for Punch. Punch grew up to be a beautiful big dog. He was a friendly dog. Even the neighborhood mailman would ask about Punch, if he did not meet him at the front door. On some occasions, Punch would get out of my brothers backyard, and go across the street to play with a neighbors dog, which was smaller in comparison to Punch. Punch never ventured any further than across the street. The neighbors dog would play aggressively with Punch, but Punch intuitively knew that he was bigger, and could hurt the smaller dog, if he played to rough with his little canine friend. When Punch was tired of playing, he would run back across the street to my brothers front porch, and use one of his front paws to ring the front doorbell, to let my brother know to open the door. My brother had not taught Punch to do this amazing task. He learned it himself. Punch had great instincts about people also. My sister, JoAnn and I, had always been afraid of dogs and Punch sensed that. He would never try to frighten us by barking aggressively or jumping on us. Punch would keep his distance, about four feet from us. If we had to go pass Punch, we would say, back up Punch or go away Punch. He did just what we asked. Eventually, we became less afraid of Punch. My brother became ill and could not take care of Punch. He decided that Punch should have his freedom. My brother asked our cousin, Lester, to come pick up Punch and drive him far out to the rural countryside and turn Punch loose. My brother could not bare the thought of ever knowing that Punch was caged up, being mistreated, or put to sleep permanently. I believe Punch sensed my brother was ill. He had slept on the bedroom floor beside my brothers bed many nights. My brother had a faithful, loyal friend, one of mans best friends, Punch. My brother loved Punch and Punch loved my brother.

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1/3/2010 11:51 AM Premium
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12/29/2009 4:23 PM
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Votes: 3
Views: 1,124
Date: 12/28/09
Other: Writing