Man’s Best Friend & My Best Friend

Just two days ago, my dog had to be put to sleep. As I’m typing this, I should be getting some sleep myself. It’s 1:30am, and I don’t want to, nor can’t I, sleep.

The worst part? He was my only real friend. From the moment I owned him, even to this day, I had, and still have, a grand total of zero human friends.

All my schoolmates did was one of three things: say hello once a month, ignore me, or see how far they could push me, if they could make me snap.

It must have been their favourite game: Push The Freak Until He Breaks. Rules: if you get him angry, you win. Bonus points if he gets in trouble, you succeed in making him look the instigator, and grand prizes for whoever does both.

My dog was my only friend willing to lend an ear. He’d always greet me with a wagging tail, and a happy look as he panted energetically, willing to hear everything I had been through for the day.

And now he’s gone. My friend, my rock, the only thing I had to be happy about in this harsh world, and the one thing that kept me sane, has left forever.

And all I see when I shut my eyes is just his face, fading away, leaving me alone amid the crowds.

I don’t want to see that anymore. I want my best friend back.

i want my dog back.