As humans, it is sometimes strange the things we find comfort in. A trend over the past couple years has been an electronic brick that our eyes are glued to with nary a release. For some, much like children, we find comfort in material things, such as blankets or stuffed animals. For the more mentally sophisticated, they enjoy themselves some crystals. But no matter what it is we find comfort in, it's a terrifying thing when we are torn away from them.
I'll never forget the day my dog died. It was also the day I died inside.
It started out as a day just like any other. I was taking my dog out for a walk at the park, just as any good dog owner around this neighborhood does. We did our usual laps around the park. There was when I saw my good friend, Barbara.
"How have things been?" she asked, going in for a half hug. She looked down at my dog, which looked up at her, wagging his tail. "Who's this cute little guy?"
"This is Sampson," I replied. With as often as we see each other at the park, I'm surprised she never took notice. Granted we never talked here until now. "I've had him for a few months. I was just taking him for his daily walk."
Barbara nodded, smiling and petting my dog. He just looked up at her and wagged his tail. He was such a gentle creature and I loved him for that.
"Did you hear about Janice?" Barbara asked, coming back up to meet me in the eyes.
"No, what happened?" I asked.
She cocked her head to the side and her expression turned to one of sadness. "She was attacked by a dog the other day. A big, vicious hound." She looked back to my dog and squished her face as if she were talking to a baby. "Nothing like you, you cute little thing."
"Oh my gosh, is she okay?" I asked. Janice was like a motherly figure to me, helping me when I was struggling to find a job and was pretty close to me until a few weeks ago when she found a boyfriend.
"She's okay, she just had a nasty bite on the back of her leg and some teeth marks in her hand. Nothing too serious," she replied.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I gave my dog's collar a gentle tug, only to find there was nothing in my hands. I felt my heart skip a beat. I looked down to find that my dog had escaped me. I scanned my eyes around the ground of the park but saw no sign of my dog.
I left Barbara and took off looking for him, calling his name. I stopped a few people as I took off in a direction I thought he had gone. I asked the people if they'd seen a dog but they all said no. One of them, a tall, slender man with short brown hair, offered to help.
He and I searched every inch of the park, calling out his name but to no avail. That was until we heard the squealing of an injured dog. He and I quickly sprinted in that direction. Someone better not have hurt my dog.
When we made it, I saw my dog laying in the middle of the road, a truck pulled up just in front of him. My dog was laying on his side as he whimpered and craned his neck toward his hind legs.
"I'm sorry," the man that came out of the truck said. "It was chasing something and ran out into the road before I had a chance to stop."
"He," I corrected him, tears streaming down my cheeks as I heard my dog whimpering. "He's not some wild animal, he was my only friend."
I went to pet him as his whimpering softened until he took his last breath.
"Can I get you anything?" asked Campbell, the man that helped me look for my dog earlier. He offered to cook for me since he felt bad about the loss of my dog.
I shook my head. I was thankful for him but at the same time, how could I think about eating or drinking at a time like this? I loved that dog.
"Suit yourself," he said before grabbing a bottle of soda from the fridge and sitting down on the couch next to me. I felt him put his arm around me. What the hell was he trying?
"What's wrong with you?" I shouted as I tossed his arm off me. At least I tried. He forced his arm down and around my neck.
"I helped you," he whispered in my ear, dragging me close to him. "The least you can do is say thanks."
I'll never forget the day my dog died. It was also the day I died inside.
It started out as a day just like any other. I was taking my dog out for a walk at the park, just as any good dog owner around this neighborhood does. We did our usual laps around the park. There was when I saw my good friend, Barbara.
"How have things been?" she asked, going in for a half hug. She looked down at my dog, which looked up at her, wagging his tail. "Who's this cute little guy?"
"This is Sampson," I replied. With as often as we see each other at the park, I'm surprised she never took notice. Granted we never talked here until now. "I've had him for a few months. I was just taking him for his daily walk."
Barbara nodded, smiling and petting my dog. He just looked up at her and wagged his tail. He was such a gentle creature and I loved him for that.
"Did you hear about Janice?" Barbara asked, coming back up to meet me in the eyes.
"No, what happened?" I asked.
She cocked her head to the side and her expression turned to one of sadness. "She was attacked by a dog the other day. A big, vicious hound." She looked back to my dog and squished her face as if she were talking to a baby. "Nothing like you, you cute little thing."
"Oh my gosh, is she okay?" I asked. Janice was like a motherly figure to me, helping me when I was struggling to find a job and was pretty close to me until a few weeks ago when she found a boyfriend.
"She's okay, she just had a nasty bite on the back of her leg and some teeth marks in her hand. Nothing too serious," she replied.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I gave my dog's collar a gentle tug, only to find there was nothing in my hands. I felt my heart skip a beat. I looked down to find that my dog had escaped me. I scanned my eyes around the ground of the park but saw no sign of my dog.
I left Barbara and took off looking for him, calling his name. I stopped a few people as I took off in a direction I thought he had gone. I asked the people if they'd seen a dog but they all said no. One of them, a tall, slender man with short brown hair, offered to help.
He and I searched every inch of the park, calling out his name but to no avail. That was until we heard the squealing of an injured dog. He and I quickly sprinted in that direction. Someone better not have hurt my dog.
When we made it, I saw my dog laying in the middle of the road, a truck pulled up just in front of him. My dog was laying on his side as he whimpered and craned his neck toward his hind legs.
"I'm sorry," the man that came out of the truck said. "It was chasing something and ran out into the road before I had a chance to stop."
"He," I corrected him, tears streaming down my cheeks as I heard my dog whimpering. "He's not some wild animal, he was my only friend."
I went to pet him as his whimpering softened until he took his last breath.
"Can I get you anything?" asked Campbell, the man that helped me look for my dog earlier. He offered to cook for me since he felt bad about the loss of my dog.
I shook my head. I was thankful for him but at the same time, how could I think about eating or drinking at a time like this? I loved that dog.
"Suit yourself," he said before grabbing a bottle of soda from the fridge and sitting down on the couch next to me. I felt him put his arm around me. What the hell was he trying?
"What's wrong with you?" I shouted as I tossed his arm off me. At least I tried. He forced his arm down and around my neck.
"I helped you," he whispered in my ear, dragging me close to him. "The least you can do is say thanks."
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