It was December 02, Saturday noon, when one of our dogs died. His name was Ken Ken or Kenneth. We called him Kenneth because my father found him and rescued him when he was a puppy. He was walking our dearly beloved Boomer on the seacoast when he noticed this poor puppy that almost drowned on the crashing waves. He brought him back home and we nurtured him. He was such a cutie. We called him "Kenneth" or in our dialect means "Kinit-an". Kinit-an means a foundling or abandoned in English. He and Boomer were best friends. Unfortunately, Boomer died a couple of years later due to an infection.
Ken Ken died at the age of 12. He was a very friendly dog. Never bitten anyone and he was afraid of thunders, fireworks or anything that is loud and booming.
We couldn't afford to give him a fancy pet burial but we gave him a decent burial in our front yard.
Pets don't live long enough like humans do but they are always the most loyal creatures and it hurts when u get so emotionally attached to them.
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