A Year Later, Wounds Still Lie Open
Well, today kind of snuck up on me. Today was an anniversary of some sort, I suppose. Today... Today marks a year of my life without Him... What is a pet? A pet is an animal that you feed, bath, and take care of. They add to your house's livelihood... From as far back as I can remember to a year ago, I didn't have a pet; Dakota was no pet. Some might only see him as just a dog, a simple mutt. Golden retriever, some german Shepard, and finally a little bit of chow thrown in there. Yes, he was a dog, but he was my first friend. Through the years of which we grew, we became very close. Whenever I was feeling down, he would always be there, cute soft head in my lap, looking up at me with ever caring eyes. He loved me, and I loved him. He understood me, he cared about me; he was no pet, he was my companion. One time he bit me. He got really defensive about his food, and I suppose one day I got just a little too close. He bit my wrist and drew some blood, put a few scars in it. It hurt, but I didn't yell at him, nor did I hit him. I didn't see him for the rest of the day. Then, at night, I found him in a corner of the house, crying. Yes, crying. He was crying because he knew he hurt me, he felt bad for what he did, because he knew that he betrayed our trust, our bond, and hurt me, and that is what really tore me up inside that day, seeing him so sad, seeing him in tears, actually in tears because he thought I was upset with him. Seeing him like that made me want to take back anything I might have said over the years. All the bad dog, and all the yelling at him, hitting his muzzle, all of it... Every last ill word and hurtful strike... Time goes by so fast. For a little while you've gotta find a reason to drag yourself out of bed to pull yourself through the day, each one creeping by slower and more painful than the last... And then, all of a sudden, three hundred and sixty five days have gone by, three hundred and sixty five. And you know what, I still miss him as much as I did during the spring, and as much as I did the day after he was gone, and I'm sure I'll still miss him just as much three thousand six hundred and fifty days from now... The day before he was going to be put down, I cried for hours. I laid on my bed, sobs and tears running uncontrollably. I knew he was going to die the next day, but I couldn't possibly imagine living the next day without him. He was such s huge part of my life that I couldn't bear to think about being without him until the moment when his heart would stop. I didn't go with my family the next day when they went to bring him to wherever he was going to be put down, I just couldn't see it. I knew if I went I would be in tears the whole way there, very single second while I was there, and the whole way back. So, I stayed at home, lying in my bed, crying silent tears, trying to wrap my head around the idea that he isn't coming back, he wouldn't be there when I came home from school the next day, he wouldn't be there the next time I was feeling down, he wasn't coming back...