He crawled out of his cage with every ounce of strength left onto the cold white floor. He had waited all day for our arrival. No tubes or wires were going to hold him back. This was my first time seeing him, since he had been diagnosed. It appeared as if he had aged five years over night. He could barely breathe, let alone walk. At the same, nothing had changed. He was still the loving dog that was always ecstatic to see me.
He was more than my pet, he was my best friend. I started my day off every morning saying hello to him. In return, he greeted me with an enthusiastic tail wag. He was always there when I needed a hug or someone to cry on. He stuck by me, especially when I was sick, while others passed through my life. It may seem like he was the typically dog. The term, “normal dog”, is too generic of a description. He was the most genial dog; one would ever have the pleasure of meeting.

I had only learned that morning that he was sick. Yet, I had seen the warning signs. My feelings were pushed into denial by my family. That didn’t matter now, he was terminally ill, and nothing was going to change that. Within minutes of our arrival, he was gone. I watched the light leave his eyes as he shut his eyes for the last time. At that time, my arms were still hugged around him. It was the most surreal moments of my life. Life had vanished in an instant.
I had experienced death numerous times, but never had it been this close. The feeling that someone waited for my visitation before he felt at peace is indescribable. No one will ever compare to him, but I don’t expect anyone to. With his death, my appreciation for animals deepened. No animal will ever be a senseless creature; each and every one has their own personality. If I go into the relationship open minded, the animal could, once again, transform my life.