Walker was a Miniature Pinscher and Chihuahua mix. Upon first encountering him, I immediately desired to adopt him, primarily because he was the runt of the litter, and such puppies often face difficulties in being adopted. My mother inquired about the price of the puppies, and we were informed that they cost $1,000 due to the father being a former show dog. This revelation dashed my hopes of acquiring a puppy that week. However, a week later, Walker remained the only unadopted puppy. The owners noticed my mother and my sister, Rosa, walking down the street and called them over. They handed the puppy to my mother, saying, "Give him to your daughter." While I was watching television, my mother placed the puppy in my lap. The puppy licked my nose and I squealed with delight. My mother suggested, "You should name him Turtle." At that moment, I was watching my favorite television show, "Walker, Texas Ranger," and I decided to name him Walker, after the Texas Ranger. Walker developed rapidly, like any other dog, but he and Shadow did not get along. Whenever I brought Walker into the backyard, he would make a determined sprint toward Shadow, resulting in physical altercations that I had to break up. Walker made it abundantly clear that he considered himself my dog. While it might seem obvious, let me elaborate: Walker refused to eat unless I fed him, would not go for a walk unless I accompanied him, would not cease barking unless I instructed him to stop, and when I went to school, Walker would sit by the window, awaiting my return, moving only when necessary to relieve himself or drink water. One day, upon my arrival home, my mother remarked, "You have that dog so wrapped around your finger that he sits by the window waiting for you. Then, once you return, he acts as though he hasn't seen you in years." One day, I decided to test Walker's loyalty by instructing him to sit at the curb while I walked away. Looking back, I saw Walker running after me. Walker harbored a strong dislike for strangers and became aggressive toward them, believing himself to be a formidable dog despite his small stature. I was particularly grateful for Walker's aggressive nature on one occasion when, while walking him, a man on a bicycle approached and offered me a ride. I declined, but the man grabbed my arm. Walker leaped up and bit the man on the face; to this day, I am unsure how Walker managed such a feat. The man rode away, and I showered Walker with affection. My favorite memory of Walker was when I decided to reenact a scene from the movie "Brother Bear" by pretending my coat was a cave and placing it over Walker, not realizing he would quickly become overheated. When I "discovered" him, I picked him up and he vomited all over me, then darted away as my grandmother laughed. I had the privilege of having Walker as my companion for two years before he departed. He had grown close to my other dog, Rosebud the 2nd, and a few days after Walker left us, Rosebud also passed away. I miss Walker deeply; he was truly one of the finest dogs I have ever had.