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Jojo arrived as a surprise when I was 7-years old. He was the cutest little ball of white fluff with adoring black eyes. It was love at first sight. My mother proudly told me that he was a pure breed toy-poodle. I thought immediately, "But he's not a toy" and she explained that he belonged to the smallest breed of poodles. True enough, Jojo didn't grow any bigger than 40cm in length but he had the biggest little heart.

The first night we had Jojo, I cuddled him in my arms and insisted on bringing him to bed with me. The feeling was mutual. He whined when I left for school the next day. Maybe it was a strategy of my parents, to make sure I came home straight after school. If it was, it definitely worked.

Being an only child, life was pretty dull. I was alone most of the time but with Jojo, I always had a willing audience, an enthusiastic participant and an appreciative partner. I was no longer lonely. He shared my happiness and sadness, faithfully. I gave him the cream of my last Oreo; he gave me the best facial everyday. He taught me stillness through our staring contests. He jumped excitedly and wagged his tail every time I came home. He quietly licked off my tears when I was sad.

Jojo loved our long walks. He was such a good-natured little dog, but somehow he knew whether a stranger had good intentions. He loved me with all his heart and was fiercely protective, often behaving like he was the only one who had the right to be close to me. Sometimes I'd wonder if he knew he was a dog.

Hide-and-seek wasn't his favorite game. He'd get so anxious when he couldn't find me and start whining that I could not bear teasing him for long. My parents believed in the theory of "Spare the rod, spoil the child" but Jojo was my most loyal defense. He would growl aggressively, selflessly attacking the "rod". I never used such disciplinary measures against him, even when he pretended to forget his toilet-training. He only rebelled when we went shopping on weekends without him. Some mischievous kids used to stomp outside my door, just to get Jojo barking. One time I got so irritated, I let him out the door and they ran like crazy. Imagine a small barking poodle, no bigger than the average cat, scaring the wits out of those 11-year-old bullies. It was the funniest scene. I never meant any harm, because I knew Jojo's bark just sounds intimidating. He would never bite or hurt anyone.

Several years later, Jojo contracted a severe flea infection which killed him. I cried for nights but felt his comforting presence still around me. Nothing replaces your first pet. I was everything to him and my dog meant the world to me. Thank God for Jojo my first love, best friend and confidant.

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