edgeofdefeat
New member
My dog died a week ago. At first we thought it was from parvo because he was positive. My parents did all they could to help him get better because I was preoccupied studying for exams. Despite my busy schedule I still tried to put time to help them too. I was studying so hard I would mostly be in my room even during exam week. I promised that after all my hard work I'd have everything figured out and find more time for my dog. I was even giggling and kicking my feet while thinking about it as I was studying, I was happy studying for the first time because I had him to motivate me in the heathiest form. Right after I'd have my mom panicking and telling me to get a flashlight because it was dark outside. Those moments outside would be us seeing him lose the life in his eyes right in front of us in real time the day before the last day of the exam week.
The last exam ironically was the best exam I've scored even if it was the most demotivated I've been. When I adopted my dog at 3 months old from my grandma's dog as a gift, I told myself I'd have to mentally prepare to love and to lose him. What I didn't realize was how little time I had to prepare. He was only six months. When a vet got an x-ray of him we found out he didn't die of parvo. In fact, he got better from my parents' home remedies. He died from a cardiac arrest. Apparently there was something in his lungs as well as a scar, but I hardly remember much. They said he should've died at 1-3 months as it was inborn, but he survived to as long as 6 months.
It reassured me only a little, but it didn't comfort me that he didn't even get to live a year old. We were looking forward to doing all sorts of things with him when he was 6 months. Now seeing all his things like his dog bowl or just the remaining pads looked like a decorated room for someone who wasn't coming. I removed his collar to hang on my door. I'd sometimes hear the bell ring when I opened my door, and for a second I'd always forget he was gone. It made me think he'd actually be there to go to my room. When I exit the door it would always feel like the same grief of relizing it'd never happen over and over again. I don't hear him barking when I get home again. I don't see his cage that he practically beat up at first from how much he jumped to leave it anymore. The morning after he died I'd immediately wake up to look outside in hopes he didn't actually die. Before I knew it he was already taken to be buried, since we have officers in our neighborhood who get paid to bury dead dogs properly.
My dad wants to buy a new dog that was just like him, but I don't think I'd be able to bring myself to love and lose someone like that again. It's probably selfish, but it's what I feel. I'm not ready to change that. I already see so many dogs online and in real life that look just like him. I could even see some dogs who look like him if he was all grown up. It was like looking at a picture that you wish you could've taken. It hurt.
The last exam ironically was the best exam I've scored even if it was the most demotivated I've been. When I adopted my dog at 3 months old from my grandma's dog as a gift, I told myself I'd have to mentally prepare to love and to lose him. What I didn't realize was how little time I had to prepare. He was only six months. When a vet got an x-ray of him we found out he didn't die of parvo. In fact, he got better from my parents' home remedies. He died from a cardiac arrest. Apparently there was something in his lungs as well as a scar, but I hardly remember much. They said he should've died at 1-3 months as it was inborn, but he survived to as long as 6 months.
It reassured me only a little, but it didn't comfort me that he didn't even get to live a year old. We were looking forward to doing all sorts of things with him when he was 6 months. Now seeing all his things like his dog bowl or just the remaining pads looked like a decorated room for someone who wasn't coming. I removed his collar to hang on my door. I'd sometimes hear the bell ring when I opened my door, and for a second I'd always forget he was gone. It made me think he'd actually be there to go to my room. When I exit the door it would always feel like the same grief of relizing it'd never happen over and over again. I don't hear him barking when I get home again. I don't see his cage that he practically beat up at first from how much he jumped to leave it anymore. The morning after he died I'd immediately wake up to look outside in hopes he didn't actually die. Before I knew it he was already taken to be buried, since we have officers in our neighborhood who get paid to bury dead dogs properly.
My dad wants to buy a new dog that was just like him, but I don't think I'd be able to bring myself to love and lose someone like that again. It's probably selfish, but it's what I feel. I'm not ready to change that. I already see so many dogs online and in real life that look just like him. I could even see some dogs who look like him if he was all grown up. It was like looking at a picture that you wish you could've taken. It hurt.