In March of 2009 my sister adopted a chocolate lab puppy who was only 3 weeks old. She named him Chevy and gave him to her boyfriend as a birthday present. The dog spent most of his time at my house playing with my puppy fender. On Thursday they brought Chevy over for thanksgiving to play with the other dogs while we ate dinner. The whole night he laid at my feet and played with me without a care in the world. two days later he turned 8 months old and played like the puppy he was loving my everyone unconditionally. Wade, my sisters boyfriend, left his 16 year old brother at home with Chevy for only 30 minutes when he received a phone call from his little brother saying someone tried to brake in. After rushing back home Wade walked into the bedroom to find Chevy dead on the floor with a shotgun wound to the head. The police arrived not long after only to discover that the little brother lied about the burglary attempt. There were no signs of forced entry and the story Wades brother told didn't add up. He claimed he dropped the gun and it went off killing Chevy, but the gunshot wound was to the top of the head and if someone had tried to break in he would have done his job and been at the door barking. Eventually he confessed that he broke into the gun cabinet to play with the shot gun and accidentally pulled the trigger while playing with the dog. Chevy was one of the best dogs I have ever known and everyone that met him fell in love immediately. It still seems unreal to think that I will never see him run through the house chasing my dog or laying in the backyard chewing on a bone and I just dont know what to do.
