I was a perfect dog. Of course, a perfect dog deserves a perfect owner. And I got one. She was wonderful. Every day, after school, she played with me, and we had so much fun together. But everything changed when she turned ten. For her birthday, she got a shiny, rectangular device that didn’t look very appealing to me, but she was thrilled. She ran to her room with it, and stayed there for hours. For months, things stayed that way. I couldn’t believe a tiny little device had so much control over her. Arguments at home, which used to be as rare as the stars upon a clouded night, became more frequent. Before she got that horrid thing, she played outside all day, rain or shine. But, that wasn’t the case anymore. Then one day, she got home from school, picked up the thing, glared at it, and started clicking away furiously. In a rage, she threw it out, and tears started streaming down her cheeks. I jumped onto her lap, and licked her salty tears. For the first time in months, she hugged me. It felt just as warm as it had months ago.