September 4, 2013.

The day my dog died. His name was Cody. He was a cute small beagle, always living as if there were doggie treats floating around himself. Overall, I could say he was incredibly happy. He used to enjoy those long and squeaky dog toys. I still recall when his tail wagged back and forth as those toys came into his eyesight. But just like that, he left. Of course, the process was painful. It was the day before his death when I came home and found him with a huge lump right under his throat. I panicked, calling my parents to immediately schedule a vet appointment. With bitter memories, I still remember how the vet gave us a $500 medicine that was supposedly going to help Cody. They had no clue what he had. They believed it to be a spider bite. Obviously, as a simple-minded 12-year-old, I believed the vet and got a good night's sleep. I kept on mumbling to myself that everything was going to be alright.

But it wasn't.

I woke up in the morning to find out that Cody was suffering from breathing problems. I still recall the sound of his breathing as I woke up. My parents said they would take him to the vet as soon as it opened. None of us knew what to do. We all panicked. The only thing we thought of was the vet. I wanted to go with my dad to the vet but it was a school day morning. They told me that they would text me about what happened. I went to school bawling my eyes out. I was stiff the entire day. I couldn't think. Heck, I could barely stop checking my phone. Every second, I looked at my phone. But nothing. It wasn't until the end of the day that I found out.

I remember how I left my last period class and called my mom. My friend was right next to me as I called. I patiently waited for my mom to tell me. I was nervous. Scared. I hoped for good news. I wanted to pray that he was okay. Alive. But not everyone gets what they wished for.

My mom hesitantly told me of the news. Slowly, I began to comprehend what happened. I cried the entire bus ride home. My friends on my bus comforted me, tried to make me laugh. But what was the point if I knew that my dog had left me? And the worst part is, I wasn't with him during his last few seconds. It tore me apart.

It took me weeks to recover. I cried each day in my room, surrounded by many snot-filled tissues. My heart felt as if it was being wrapped around by multiple rubber bands, ready to explode. But of course, I couldn't have stayed in pain forever. I had another dog at home. He was named Spotty. He was a small rat terrier and was the cutest dog anyone could have wished for. Each time I looked at Spotty, I was reminded of Cody. Tears flooded each time my eyes laid on Spotty. I try to make it look like I was okay, but it never worked out. Spotty could sense that I was in pain each and every day. From what I remember, it was a long time before I could try to move on. I tried to focus my attention on Spotty. I wanted to let him out more, treat him better, and give him some more treats.

But at the end of the day, every September 4th, I still recall the day that Cody passed away. Not one year passes by without me forgetting about his death anniversary.

For those who have a pet, I suggest you to cherish them like there's no tomorrow. Because the pain of having your pet leave you is the worst thing anyone could experience.