My best friend

Was it Mark Twain that said, “the more I get to know people, the more I like dogs”? I sympathize with him. I have lived over a half a century and I am here to tell you that I can claim without any trepidation that my best friend ever was my dog.

I lost my friend early this morning to congestive heart failure. He was a 12 year old black dachshund called Shorty. Like humans he was not perfect but he was definitely my best friend. He was there for me through thick and thin never asking for anything in return other than a cuddle. No matter what happened during the day, he was always happy to see me.

Nobody, no matter how big or strong, could get close to me without his approval. He might have been small but he did not lack courage and spunk. He was always my protector that I needed one or not.

Through the years our bond grew so strong I could literally understand what he was “telling” me. I knew when he wanted water, when he needed a walk, or if he was in the mood for a treat. I also knew he was hurting badly last night and that it was the end of the road for us. I had been preparing myself mentally for this throughout a long and expensive series of hospitalizations for the past few months. He always seemed to spring back but not this time…

He died in my arms in the middle of the night and I haven’t been able to stop crying since. He was more than a pet. He was one of my children and I will miss him more than I can put into words. I love you, sweetheart.

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