My dog died yesterday. I came home and he was dead. No one was home and I was forced to deal with a rotting best friend on my own. He felt like nothing I had ever felt before--lifeless.
My parents and I were talking about how faithful he was. Our family has gone through alot in the past few years: a move, my going off to college, etc. But everytime we came home to undwind, he was always there waiting to chear us up with his pitiful "begger's face." Everytime I came home from college, he would be there to welcome me back and always push his way in first even though I'd have my hands and arms full of luggage. But I loved him for it.
He wasn't small but I always enjoyed it when he sat on my lap. Even though I could hardly breathe, I felt a sense of security with him there. Some nights I would come downstairs after not being able to sleep and just sit down on the couch with him and listen to his breathing as he slept. Steady and heavy.
I love him and miss him. The end.
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