Nine years ago, a special friend joined the Buccheri household: our little dog Brooke. She's a Maltese — tiny when my sister-in-law's sister gave her to us to keep my sister-in-law and my brother company. We had another dog before her, a Pomeranian named Sasha. Sasha was getting old, but we all loved her, and when she passed, we felt a terrible emptiness. Now Brooke is with us. My brother keeps her, and every time I visit, she's always waiting behind the door. When I come in, she's happy. I sometimes take her out for her walks, but first she stations herself by the kitchen, waiting for her kibble or a treat, and she gives me this crafty little look — she knows more than I do! I often go to my brother's for lunch. He prepares food for Brooke, and she comes to watch, trying to figure out what he's making, her little tongue working as she seems to ask: "So are we eating or what?!" It kills me. I always pet her, and when it's time for me to leave, she gets quiet in her corner and just watches me go. I tell her, "Brooke, do you want to come home with me?" but she's too attached to her owner, Roberto. There are plenty of Maltese dogs around, but I'm lucky to have this furry friend, because a pet can keep you company. When my brother isn't feeling well, she jumps on the sofa beside him and pampers him. Now the whole neighborhood knows her. Anyone with a pet at home is fortunate!
