In March of 2013 my life changed forever. March 2013, 2nd grade, my mother took me to get a puppy. The moment I met my best friend. He was the runt of the litter, and although he was a German Shepherd and his brothers and sisters were of tan and black coats, this minuscule of a puppy’s fur was deep onyx. We ended up taking him home, along with his brother. Being a kid, I took a fancy to the tan and black puppy that looked like Chase from Paw Patrol. However, I bit my tongue, and allowed my brother first dibs because after all, I was just happy to have a dog. Of course, he chose the one I wanted. So there, I ended up with the runt. We took our new dogs into our rooms and as soon as my brother's puppy stepped foot into his room, he pooped everywhere. After that, I was more than ecstatic with my runt. I named him Blake. Blake went everywhere with me, (at this time he was small enough to fit into a tote bag) there wasn't a moment we were apart for years to come. Throughout my life he valiantly protected me, was unconditionally loyal to me, and altruistically loved me. We'd been through everything together, he got me through the hardest and lowest points of my life; Parents' divorce, the stressful load of school, privation, Blake was with me through it all. Majority of times it felt like he was the only one that truly never left my side. As I got older and grew up, I had less time to play with Blake, at least not as much as I used to. My sophomore year of high school Blake went missing for hours and came back badly wounded. I thought I was going to lose him. I couldn't breathe, I sobbed, screamed. At that time, I was at the lowest point in my life, and I couldn't imagine him not being there to get me through it. I needed him. I prayed for anything to help Blake make it through. The doctor said he'd have to go through surgery. He made it. Praise God. He's strong. I clung to him praying he'd never be taken from me again. I love Blake. I love him as if he was my own brother. He spent more time with me versus my real one. I was now in my junior year. One morning Blake could hardly move and was experiencing shortness of breath. Somehow, some way he had gotten sick, and we rushed him to the local animal hospital. Blake is strong. I knew he'd make it through, just like he did last time. I couldn't believe I was experiencing this again. I was stronger than before, but I still couldn’t imagine losing him. Blake stayed overnight. No signs of getting better. My heart dropped. I couldn't believe it. I went to visit him the next day, for what I wouldn't know would be the last time. I couldn't stand to see him in pain. Yet, he still wagged his tail when his eyes met mine. Blake died. And part of me died with him. From the day Blake died I knew, unwaveringly, that I wanted to become a veterinarian. There is no doubt in my mind that if my family had enough money for routine vet visits and medications, Blake would still be alive today. I aspire to be a veterinarian that can offer low-cost, affordable healthcare to low-income families that love their pets unconditionally just as I loved Blake.