I'll never forget the day Old Groover died. It was truly the saddest day of my life. This story begins long before that, many happy years before that sad day. All of us have memories of that one special friend from our childhood, that one friend, companion and confidante, who was always there for us. When we were happy, they were happy with us. When we were sad and needed to talk, they listened. And most of all, when we needed a friend, someone we could trust, they were there for us.

For me, that special friend was my old pal, Groover. A better friend no one ever had. Forgive me if now and then I have to stop as I sit here writing this. Part of me wants to cry from sadness at the loss of my best friend, and part of me is shedding tears of happiness. I'm not sure if you will understand, but I know Groover would. Groover understood everything. While I know I will never forget the day that Groover died, I also know I will never forget the day when I first met Groover.

The first time I saw him, he had that sheep-eating grin on his face. It was a kind of half-laugh, half-friendly mocking look in his eyes. The kind of feeling where a friend looks you in the eyes, and no matter what your lips try to say, your friend's eyes tell you that they already know what you are thinking.

That's the way it was the day I met Groover. When we looked into each other's eyes, we both knew it was a friendship made in heaven. The day we met was my birthday. My parents were really sad that they couldn't afford much. They said I was a good kid (most of the time), and they had wanted to make my birthday a special one. But they didn't have the money to do something special. I think in those days, my parents felt kind of sorry for me. I was kind of a "geeky" looking kid. I had a weird way of looking at things, and well, I was a loner. My parents felt I needed a friend. So on my birthday, my parents took me to the mall to buy me a friend.

We went to Pet Heaven, where there were hundreds of friendly looking animals, but something just didn't feel right. Maybe I really was weird. I just felt no real excitement. Oh, I tried to pretend for my folks, but they saw right through it. We went to Pet Plaza, Animal Kingdom, The Pet Zoo and several others, but there were no friends to be found for me. Being the weird, child geek that I was, I could not even find a pet that would love me. My parents felt bad. I tried to cheer them up, but there was no way to fake excitement at seeing one more fur ball in a cage. As a matter of fact, I think the thing that caught my interest most that day was a Pet Rock, but my parents did not see the humor. Sadly, my birthday ended with us walking back out to the car. We got in our beater and started the long road home.

A couple of miles down the road, with my face pressed against the glass and staring out the window to see what I could see, I thought, please don't let Dad start with the jokes. His idea of a joke was pointing out the window and yelling, "Look, a flock of turtles". Yep, I could feel the jokes coming on and there seemed little I could do to stop them. So there I sat with my mind a blank, with a glassy stare and an empty heart. Suddenly I heard myself scream, "Dad, stop the car!" I think I must have scared him, because we left 50 feet of skid marks, most of them on the road. My parents were staring at me anxiously with a look of concern in their eyes wondering if the "geekster" had finally flipped out. I begged them to back up, which they did, perhaps to humor me, but possibly just to see what had caught my attention in such a way that I nearly killed the whole family. I'm not sure who was most surprised, my mom or my dad, when they saw what had caused my outburst.

There by the road sat a puppy, just a little mutt. He sat there looking at us as we looked at him. I looked him in the eye and he looked back at me. This is how the friendship of a lifetime began. It was so weird - it was as though the puppy had been sitting there waiting for me to come along, as if he knew I would be there. As I approached, his tail wagged, his eyes shone with glee, but he sat in that one spot without getting up.

It was that something I'd seen in his eyes. I knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me. It was funny that as I looked at him he seemed to be laughing at me. I turned my head one way and he turned his head too. I turned my head the other way, he turned his head with mine. I know no one will believe me, but I really think he was laughing at me. I slowly reached out a hand and let him sniff it, and then he began to lick my fingers with friendly, soft and gentle licks.

I turned to my parents and asked, "Can I keep him?" A look was exchanged between my parents, and then an understanding nod. The puppy was mine! As I reached out for him gently, he let out a little yelp that sounded as though he was in pain. He tried to stand, but his back legs gave out, and I began to cry for a puppy that had only been mine for a minute. His back legs were hurt. I realized that they were probably broken, either from being hit by a car, or having been thrown from one. Then I realized that it would cost a lot of money to get his legs fixed, and my parents didn't have much. I didn't know what to do. I already loved the puppy. I could not bear to see him hurting, but I also did not want to hurt my parents by asking them for something that they could not afford. I could not expect them to have my new friend's legs fixed.

My parents are wiser and know me better than I gave them credit for. They had seen the puppy try to stand and fall too. A look passed between them, back to the puppy, into my own eyes, then back to each other. Then my father said, "Come on, we have to take your new friend to the vet to have his legs looked at." I started to say something, but the words did not flow the way I wanted them to. My father placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "We'll find a way."

At that time, I could not understand how my parents managed to afford it, but now I understand. My parents made a decision that my happiness was something that they were willing to make sacrifices for. They did without for awhile, perhaps even skipped a few meals, but they did manage to pay a vet to take care of my new friend. I'll always love my parents a little extra for that.

By now you're probably wondering how he got the name Groover. I know it's a strange name, but hey, it could have been worse. Groover's name came from the way he loved to sing along with the radio. No matter which song it was, as long as it was Rock and Roll, Groover would sing along with it. Grrrrr, Grrrrrrrrrrrrr, Arrrrooooooo, Woooffff, Woofff, Arroooooooooooooo! It was hilarious. Throughout his life, Groover always loved to sing, and my dad said that the puppy thought he was just "groovy" (old hippie slang for a real cool dude). That is how Groover came to be stuck with that name.

Groover recovered from his accident. His left rear paw was never completely right (now, that is a pun that Groover would have loved), but Groover never seemed to mind. We went through all the things that children go through like playing tag, hide-and-go-seek and catch-the-cat. Old Lady Buffington nearly fainted when she saw Groover chase the Fluffster up a tree. We even went on long hikes. When a bunch of bullies tried to pick on me one day, Groover took a bite out of crime. When I was dumped by my very first crush, Ms. Willingsley, Groover was there. When I needed a friend, Groover was there, and when I needed to cry, Groover was there, too. Groover was the best friend that I ever had.

My Groover loved to play games too, especially fetch and steal. His own method of madness was to wait till I threw the ball, then run and fetch it just like any other dog. Only then, he would run up with that kind of funny looking three- leg trot of his, and set it down a few feet in front of me. As soon as I would bend over to pick up the ball, he would dash up and try to grab the ball before I did. Sometimes he won, sometimes I did, but as fast as Groover was, sometimes I think he would let me win now and then, only because he felt sorry for his slow human friend.

There was one other special moment which Groover and I loved to share. As a puppy, Groover loved to roll over and over but only if I rolled over with him. He would roll over, then look at me, and then roll over again. Look at me, his eyes would say as he continued his routine, until I gave in and rolled over and over in the grass with him. It never failed to make me laugh and giggle, especially with Groover jumping all over me and nipping at my ankles. These were the best moments of my life, and I think the best in Groover's life too. Groover had brought happiness into my life. He had filled a lonely void, and had taught me how to act around others. Groover had actually changed my life, because, thanks to Groover, I am not half the geek I used to be.

One day, the unthinkable happened. Groover died right before my eyes.

It started out just like any other day. We went outside to play fetch and steal. I threw the ball as far as I could. Groover would do the three-legged fox trot at a hundred miles an hour and drop the ball "almost" within my reach. We would wrestle over the ball, and then I would throw it. Just this one time the ball hit a tree, changed directions, and bounced into the street with Groover within inches of catching it. Only this time, the ball had bounced in front of a giant 18-wheel semi-truck. The driver tried to stop. The horn blasted, the brakes screeched, and then Groover disappeared between the wheels. I saw a lifetime of happiness shatter before my eyes. In one instant, everything that felt good in my life had disappeared. In that one moment fate took a wrong turn, and with it, my best friend. Groover was gone.

With tears streaming down my face, I fell onto the grass. I couldn't see. In that one moment, as I lay on the ground crying, a ball bounced in front of me!!! I could barely see through my tear-clouded eyes, but there stood Groover, looking at me with his quizzical look. Somehow, Groover had not only managed to run between the truck tires, but he had even fetched the ball and dropped it in front of me.

I grabbed my friend. We wrestled and played. I cherished every minute I had with Groover. Many years passed, and we grew older, but I never forgot the day that Groover "almost" died. I never let a day pass without thinking how special my friend Groover was and always would be.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY

Never forget what it's like to be a child, and always remember who your true friends are.