It was October 6, 1996, the day Nikita came to live with me. There you were a tiny twelve-week-old sitting behind that kennel door. The moment I saw you I knew you would be my best friend. The kennel door was opened and as I knelt down in front of the opening Nikita leapt unafraid into my arms. On the way home that afternoon Nikita left a little surprise on the back seat of my car, but I didn't care, it wasn't a big deal! When Nikita came to live with me, I was in college, and whenever I had to study or work on an essay she wanted to play. I would then take a few minutes from my work and we would chase each other around the house.

When Nikita was a year old, she unplugged and chewed my computer's power cord into several pieces. After discovering the chewed up power cord, I went around the house and rubbed Ben-Gay on every cord that was plugged in, after which Nikita left the rest of the electrical cords alone. I am assuming it was because she had tasted the ointment, or perhaps the odor was enough to stop her from chewing on any more cords.

I remember how we used to play. Nikita loved for me to chase her out in the front yard, or to touch her feet and say "I am going to get you Nikita." She would dance around and mouth, but never bite my hands. Nikita also loved to chase the vacuum cleaner whenever I vacuumed. Noises never bothered her, she seemed to be indifferent to most human activity. Nikita made friends with every human, and or dog she met, never barking at, or biting anyone. Nikita also loved children and loved to play with them, especially a four-year-old girl who lived next door to us. They would chase each other, or play catch with Nikita's tennis ball. When Nikita wanted your attention she would let you know by vocalizing and dancing around. Nikita was a very happy dog, everyone she met would comment on that fact. The first person to notice was my friend Linda Freund who was amazed at how happy, smart and care free Nikita was. During the Summer of 1997 I gave Nikita a nickname. Whenever a mosquito would buzz around her head she would catch it and swallow it, so I gave her the nickname "skeeter the mosquito eater," or just "skeeter." After that each time I happened to see Nikita catch and swallow a mosquito I would say "there goes skeeter the mosquito eater catching and eating another mosquito!"

One Summers day in 1998 Nikita, even though she was house broken, decided to defecate on the living room floor in front of me. I scolded her, and made her sit in a corner of the livingroom facing the wall. She sat like that for about sixty seconds, then turned her head toward me to get my sympathy however, it didn't work. I told her to turn around and face the wall, she did as I ask, that is until I felt bad about making her face the wall as punishment. That was the last time Nikita used the house as her bathroom.

Nikita saved my life six years ago. I was diagnosed with clinical depression, which was brought about by the environment we were living in. I had thought about ending my life when the depression was at its worst. For two days I sat planning my demise, the pain and sadness was getting to be too much. During the second day Nikita came up to me, sat down in front of me, stared at me as she often did, and whined. Somehow she knew something was wrong, and at that moment I realized that I had to get help. I could not leave her, if I left her who would take care of her! The next day I called the college campus psychologist for some help. I was so happy that Nikita reminded me that she needed me and I her. My best friend saved my life that day!

There were many times when we were sitting in the living room, I on my recliner and Nikita on her couch, that I would happen to look over at Nikita and find her staring at me. She would stare at me for about five minutes, then lay her head down and fall asleep . She did this on a daily bases until the day she passed away. I often wondered what was going through her mind, while she sat there staring at me.

Nikita loved going outside during the winter months to lie in the snow on her stomach. She also loved catching snowballs, and while walking beside me would scoop up a mouthful of snow and munch on it. She also liked to carry her food dish around the house, or to take it outside with her, wherever she laid her dish she would lie next to it and guard it. She also liked teasing the neighbor's dog with her dish, as she would walk back and forth along the fence with her dish, trying to get his attention. Like all dogs' Nikita loved attention, her way of seeking it was to ly on her stomach with her head between her paws. She would then look up at me with wide eyes. I would ask her, as I walked toward her "what do you want Nikita?" She would then wag her tail back and forth across the floor as I approached, that is, until I started to rub her face with my hands. She loved for me to rub the sides of her face as hard as I could without hurting her.

It was a cold winters day February 9, 2006. It was the day my best friends life came to an end. Nikita had been ill for about a month and had lost a lot of weight. She had refused to eat for three days during the first week of January, and I started to worry about her. I then drove her into the vet's office on the fourth day. A blood sample was taken, and it was determined that Nikita was dehydrated. She was then placed on an IV solution to rehydrate her. Two days later I went in to see how she was doing and the doctor had me take her out to urinate, as well as get a sample of her urine. From her sample a bladder infection was discovered. She was then given another IV with antibiotics, and had to stay for another two days. An x-ray was taken of her internal organs during her stay, and a tumor was found in her intestine. Finally the doctor called me to let me know that I could pick up Nikita and I was given some steroid tablets to help boost her appetite, and to hopefully suppress the tumor. Two weeks later Nikita stopped eating. It didn't matter what I offered her, she wouldn't eat anything. I called the doctor on the third morning and that afternoon took her in to see him. The doctor took a blood sample and twenty minutes later had the results of the test. The doctor told me that Nikita had jaundice, and that there was nothing he could do for her because of the juandice and malignant tumor. I then had to decide whether to take her home and let her suffer until she passed away, or die peacefully on the cold metal table that she was lying on. I loved and cared for Nikita too much to let her suffer, so her life ended peacefully as I heard her take her last breath. The doctor then ask me if I would like to stay for a while to say goodbye to her. I said my last goodbye after holding her for half an hour, and left the doctors office knowing that I would never see Nikita again. It seemed colder that afternoon as I stepped outside. I felt so alone, so very alone! I would give anything, including my degree to have her back, if only there were some way!