The Last Breath Twisting the doorknob on the mahogany door towering over me, I listen attentively for the familiar woofs of Pongpong. I remember when my mom asked me what I wanted to name my dog. I was imitating the sounds of firecrackers, and my mom thought I said Pongpong while I was actually shouting: “boom, boom!” That’s how my dog’s name came to be. After pushing the door open, I steady myself before Pongpong pounces on me with all his strength. Being a lot taller anda stronger than me, Pongpong pushes me to the floor and I wince at the pain. I playfully nudge him off of me and follow him inside. I run my tiny fingers through his fur, which feels like combing through a million silk threads. Pongpong may be a little frightening in my six-year-old mind, but he became a big part of my life and I know I wouldn’t be able to live without him.

I didn’t know if it was the fluorescent lamp on my desk that was causing the pounding in my head or the words that I just heard. They replay over in my head, like a song I really don’t want to hear anymore.
“It’s Pongpong. He’s sick. His lung problems are causing him to bleed. He’s at the hospital, and the doctors say he won’t live much longer.” My sister’s rushed whisper repeated in my head again. I regret not giving Pongpong all of my love and staying by him for his entire life. I regret the days and moments lost because we gave him away. He was given to my sister’s friend when my mom started having serious allergies. Pongpong was tossed around from a friend’s house to a factory to a pet shop. And I regret every decision now that his life is slowly slipping away.
The smell of rubbing alcohol that every hospital possesses immediately entered my nose as we walked into the tall building labeled “宠物医院”, but I couldn’t think of anything else other than Pongpong. Pongpong, the one who never forgot to greet me when I came home from school. Pongpong, the one I said goodnight to right before I fell asleep. Pongpong, the one who sat with me patiently, listening as I made up immature stories. Pongpong, the one who sometimes liked to mischievously chase his own tail just to make me laugh. After pulling myself up the stairs, I walked into a room full of metal cages, which looked about as comfortable as jail cells. I had to hold back my tears when I saw Pongpong, sitting up with all his might, in the biggest metal cage. A pool of blood was sitting right next to him. I saw his eyes light up in familiarity when he saw us and it was almost like he has been waiting for us to come so we could say our last goodbyes. I couldn’t comprehend that my childhood friend was grasping onto his last moments because his eyes were still filled with life- they were trying to tell me a million stories I might never hear. Immediately, I rushed to Pongpong’s side, desperate to make up for the lost time.
“What happened, Pongpong? No matter what you will always be my best friend. Always! I will remember you! You’re a good dog.” I frantically talked to him in the childish voice I always used when he was young. I held on to Pongpong’s hand, providing some comfort to the anguish he was going through.
After spending half an hour with Pongpong, the blood that he coughed up started to increase. Both unexpectedly and expectedly, he became too weak to even sit. Falling to his side, Pongpong still attempted to muster up a last small smile in his eyes. I never noticed until then, but his eyes were truly wonderful, like they could see right through you. His eyes spoke words that we would never understand, but words that gave us a slight idea of his thoughts. And now, his eyes flutter, and then they close, not rapidly, but gradually, like dimming lights. My mom’s cries filled up my ears, but I settled for silence, because I couldn’t put my feelings into words. I felt guilty, because I couldn’t seem to squeeze out any tears. But I guess that all the words have been spoken, tears shed, and my childhood friend has left me.