Maybe the reality of it hasn't set in yet.

I still look around under the furniture for her to pick her up, swirl around, and place on high objects.

But she won't be there anymore.

I wish I could shed a tear for her, she deserved that much at least. But no matter how hard I try, I can't. Maybe I'm too spoiled inside. Maybe I'm too good at cutting anything off before it gets the better of me. Everything always under control.

She was a good companion, and we looked at her as another family member, no matter how hard I kept calling her 'bitch'.

I can only imagine how hard it must have been for mom to see her during that time. Part of me wishes I was there to keep her warm in her last moments, part of me doesn't, due to fear that I would break down.

I always knew that that day would come, purposely joking about getting a new dog, but the truth is, I always hoped that it would never happen.

I miss you. I love you. Good bye.




I did it. At last, for you.