Thirteen and a half years. I had you for 13 and a half years. I was 6-years-old when Daddy brought you home. Now, at 19, I have had to say goodbye. I came home just to snuggle you, just to remind you how loved you are. I sat on the couch with you and somehow you managed to still put your head in my lap, covering me with slobber. You had lost so much weight and you barely ate. You couldn't even jump on my bed anymore. But let's stop talking about the last times and start from the beginning.
You were there for my elementary school years. You were there when I learned how to ride a bike. You were there every day when I got on the school bus in the morning, and off of it in the afternoon. You slept in my bed with me every morning after Daddy left for work.
You were there when I started middle school. You were there when I was bullied. You were there when everything came crashing down around me. You were there when I lost myself; you were there when I found myself again.
You were there when I started high school. You were there when I had my first crush. You were there every time I lost someone that I loved. You were there when I graduated. You sat on the couch with me while I wrote and rewrote my Valedictorian speech, trying to get it just right.
You were there when I started college. You were there through it all. You loved me at my worst and at my best.
You were not just a dog, you were my best friend. Saying goodbye to you has been one of the hardest parts of my life. Knowing that the next time I pull into our driveway, you won't be there drooling, wagging your nub, waiting for me to get out of the car. Knowing that the next time I am home, you won't be able to cuddle with me on the couch like we always did. Knowing that everything is going to be different is ruining me.
I miss you so much baby boy. I love you more than words could ever say.