My dog’s name was Uma. A box with a small puppy was brought to the yard of our apartment building. She lived in the yard until she was three months old, and then we took her home. As a puppy, she looked like a Jack Russell: white, smooth-haired, with black ears and black fur around her eyes. Later, she grew into a big dog, curly like a little sheep.

She had an extraordinary appearance, with rough, curly, sheep-like fur and large, upright ears. Often, when we got on the tram, grandmothers would think a goat had come aboard 😁. She was an amazing dog, like a true friend, who absolutely loved walking. On weekends, we could walk for five hours, covering up to 15 km. We never did professional training, but we constantly communicated with her. She knew unique commands like “Don’t go into the flowerbed,” “Not that way, the other way,” “Move, please,” “Step aside, please,” and “Look.”

She loved nature. We traveled to so many resorts and places together. For her, the word “walk” was sacred. Uma wasn’t the kind of dog who ran and played with others while her owners stood aside. If you stood still, she would sit next to you with a face like someone was holding her on a leash. Uma loved to move; every walk was like a never-ending adventure as long as she wasn’t standing still.

During COVID, a few days before the lockdown, a little puppy came home with me. At first, we thought we would give her away, but after a month, she became a new family member. We named her Pufa. Uma became like a mother to her. On walks, Pufa would constantly grab Uma’s tail with her teeth and could walk alongside her like a little elephant almost the entire time. Eventually, they became incredible friends—my fluffy duo, doing everything together. They could play in the room for half an hour after a walk, chase ducks along the river, and explore adventures in the bushes.

Uma left behind a little fluffy friend she had raised herself. There were so many touching and funny moments. Trips and walks always turned into little adventures. She had a favorite command, “Kisses.” When we went upstairs, on almost every landing she would stop in front of me. I would say, “Kisses,” I would kiss her on the forehead, and she would move on. Or on walks, if I said it, she would stop and wait for her kiss.

Uma had a huge impact on my life. She brought so much change, turned my life around, and gave happiness to my soul. Now I also love walking and spending time outdoors. Uma was a bright dog, free-spirited, and often smiling.