My parents raised a little doggy named Yellow. Yellow was a boy dog and he was more than adorable. All of our family members extremely liked him. Yellow had a body of yellow hairs, that was why he got the name Yellow. He was not fat so that he could run very fast. Yellow had a very funny habit that he was fond of running after chickens. He just ran after the chicken, and was not meant to hurt them. I knew he just enjoyed the feeling of running. Yellow's best friend was not me but my father. Maybe it was because my father fed him and often played with him. So Yellow liked to walk following behind my father when he was walking on the street. Besides that, Yellow always waited for my father at the door when he went to work, and jumped up to warm welcome my father when he came back from work. I thought Yellow really loved my dad. Good time always flows fast. A sunny morning at a fall, Yellow left home and never came back. My parents searched him for many days around our village, but didn't find him. No one knew what happened to him, we just preyed in heart for him that no matter what happened we hoped there were no pains on him