It has been three years ago today that I lost my best friend.
There is something wrong with a man who has loved a dog more than most of the people he has known. Then again, there is something wrong with a man who is loved by a dog more than most of the people who have known him. I plead guilty on both counts.
One day I will write the story of this dog, but not today. After three years, the wound is still too tender, too painful.
Time, they say, heals all wounds, and grief will eventually fade away. I say they are wrong. Some wounds do not heal. They scab over, true, but they cannot heal because the scab is continually knocked off.
Every day I leave for work, and he is not there, pleading to go with me. Destination unimportant. The desire to just be by my side the only requirement.
Every day I return, and he is not sitting in the driveway, waiting expectantly. Each day's reunion like I had been gone for years and not hours.
It was that link between us that proved to be the strongest. On this morning three years ago I found him laying by my truck, already too cold but still breathing shallowly. It was as if he was waiting for me to give him a final ride across the Great Divide.
I got a final look of recognition, and a few minutes later he died in my lap. It was as it should have been, and I am eternally grateful for that.
Today I will be the one standing in the driveway. There will be no reunion, but there will be memories that will last forever.
What was his name?
ReplyDeleteRay, time will not heal this, but in time you will develope better coping skills to deal with the grief and loss. And although the Bible doesnt mention it, I am sure we will see our pets in Heaven. Afterall, God did not kick them out of the Garden.
ReplyDeleteFelipe: His name was Butch, but he liked to be called "Bull." Had a huge vocabulary for a dog. One day I'll compile a list of all the words he understood. "You want to go?" would send him into a frenzy of ecstasy.
ReplyDeleteChrissy: I like the idea, and I hope you are right.