He was a dog, and his name was Odie. Odie was my best friend in the entire world and I had him for about six or seven years. He was just like Derpy; clutzy, had a dopey sounding voice/bark, had messy looking hair, loved bubbles (he really liked to eat them) and even had a problem with his eyes (cataracts). A year ago, he went missing. My mother found him dead by the side of a road when she and my step-father went to go look for him a month after he left. It was my fault he ran away, though. My step-dad asked me to put him outside when I got home from this New Year’s Eve party. I got home around six in the morning and let Odie out. I could tell that he didn’t want to go, he looked sad and scared. I had to push him out with his sister, Annie (who LIVED for going outside) and then I left to spend the day with my real father and sister shortly after. When I came home a day later, Odie had hit the road. 

My step-dad apologized frequently, but I still felt like it was my fault. I spent most of my days alone at school after that. I felt like a murderer, like I shouldn’t be alive. And then soon enough, Annie was taken from me by our neighbor’s car. He was so shocked and scared that he and his mother offered to take her to the vet (she was still convulsing and breathing heavily after she was hit). All I could do was stare as my other two dogs kept their distance.

Sometimes I still cry thinking about Odie, even though there are two new dogs in my life now. That’s why I don’t want Hasbro to get rid of Derpy; she reminds me too much of my old friend. Whenever I see her, I’m immediately reminded of Odie and it makes me so happy. Seeing her go would make me feel like she died like he did, and a bit like it’s my fault, too.