Yeah, yeah, this isn't gaming related. Sorry. I just need to vent to anyone willing to listen. Well, read. Not listen. You don't listen to text. But that's not the point.
I've been alive a while. My life, described in a single word, is sheltered. I'm sorta introverted, and I have some flaws that I'm ashamed of. I'm not too fond of physical socialization, but I absolutely crave it. To me, there's always been someone I could talk to; someone whose sole purpose was to love me. That someone was my dog.
His name was Bailey. He was a Yellow Labrador who loved bread. He liked bread lots. Bailey and I were the best of friends. We played. We laughed (he barked, I laughed). Hell, we slept together (not like that, perv). We had the best of times together. We were friends.
Anyone who has had a dog knows that there is a special kind of love they give. Humans love, but dogs at times seem to be only capable of love, and it is a love so unparalleled by anything else. Getting yelled at by my boss for eight hours was bettered by knowing my dog was waiting for me when I got home. The sheer joy he expressed when I walked through the door was wonderful. Here was someone who was genuinely happy to see me. And I, human, master, best friend, was genuinely happy to see him.
A week ago today, I was notified that Bailey didn't have much time left. He was getting old. He was slowing down. He was losing his spark of life. I was shattered, but determined to make the most of it. So we played, ran, and slept some more. I haven't felt that happy since I--- well, I've never felt that happy. I could almost hear him saying, "Chris, stop sulking, man up, and let's play." He probably wasn't saying that, but pretending helps.
Two nights ago, at exactly 9:50 PM EST, Bailey collapsed. He started to grow cold, and was rapidly losing his ability to move. I cried. I cried a lot. We took our final drive together to the Vet, where we went our separate ways.
So here I am. Staring into space. Thinking of how I'm going to put my feelings into words. I've always liked to believe that people don't really leave when they die, but that they are merely invisible to human eyes. I've never coped with death well. I'm not coping with Bailey's death well. I am truly trying to pull myself together, but it's harder than I thought it would be. My friend is gone.
(I'm sorry if this seems like nothing more than some clickbait sob-story. I'm venting to you.)
Losing a friend may just be the hardest experience any human can go through. But as I'm starting to really recall the great times I spent with that lump, I'm starting to realize that he pulled me out of depression. That dog took me from the circle of Hell I was trapped in and brought me into the light. That dog, and I'm not exaggerating one bit, changed my life.
The universe may or may not have been created by an omnipotent being. I have my beliefs, and you have your own. But when the dog was made, things slowed down for a while so that perfection could be nearly achieved. Dogs are truly man's best friend, and I'm glad I've had one of my own.
(and you, reader)