• During his operation,
    I didn't know.
    That he was about to die.
    I was care-free.
    They injected him with the shot,
    and his heart stopped beating...
    And his eyes became hazed...
    While I was laughing and having fun,
    I had no clue,
    my best friend was gone.

    When I got home my neighbor called.
    My Mom picked it up and listened,
    then came in quivering,
    she asked me to sit down with her on the sofa.
    She was shaking so badly,
    a million thoughts rushed through my mind.

    Then she told me.
    That he was gone for good.
    And an explosion of tears gushed from my eyes like a waterfall.

    That night I went to his funeral in the backyard.
    I got to put his head on my lap one last time,
    and ruffle through his amazingly soft fur.
    Even though he wasn't there anymore,
    it was good enough for me.

    When they placed him into the ground,
    wrapped up in a blanket,
    The hardest thing to acknowledge...
    was "Good-bye".

    I beat myself up with words,
    I was so mad at myself.
    Every time I had been sad or hurt, he was always there to help,
    and to listen,
    with his magical silence.
    I had grown up with him ever since I was 2.
    He died at the age of almost 10.
    And of right now,
    as I'm writing this,
    its only been three days since I've held his soulless body in my lap.

    He was more than just a dog,
    he was my best friend.