This Should Be a Non-Issue.

You know what sucks? My dog died.



Almost three years ago. Two days before Christmas. I was seventeen.



I'm twenty now, and life has hit me like a ton of bricks several times over, and I still have this on my shoulders. My dog died. Since then, my family has gotten two more dogs, and they're both brilliant and retarded, and absolutely gorgeous creatures. They're both extremely loving and quirky and amazing as far as pets go... And they're both very young.

Sable used to be young. But when Sable was young, I was young. When I was growing up, Sable grew up with me. When Sable died, I died.

Okay, so I've been able to be okay and live a life, but a part of my heart is missing and it's scarred over, and sometimes I can still feel the emptiness. I haven't loved anything on this earth as much as I loved, and still love, Sable. The last few moments of her life are burned into my memory with surgical precision, and they're never going away.

There's things I'll always have in my life to look back on and say that I was able to move on, and they were supposed to happen to me. My best friend left town and I had to find a new one, in sixth grade. My next door neighbor died right after his fifth birthday because he was hit by a drunk driver. My first love absolutely stomped on my heart. These things will always remain with me because I learned how to be a better person from them. I learned how to grow close to others even in the face of uncertainty. I learned to always take the keys from those who didn't understand they weren't sober enough to drive. I learned to be guarded, and love.

When Sable died, I learned that very, very few people will come into your life, be the most loyal, trustworthy friend, fight for your life and safety, never yell at you, always be willing to play with you, always lay by your side when you needed to cry, love you endlessly, be completely selfless, and make you fall in love with them with absolutely every fiber of your being - these few people will come into your life, and they'll go until their last breath protecting your heart, making sure you're okay. But these people will die.

When Sable was dying, she knew she was dying. She could feel it, but she fought to be strong, tried her hardest to not let us know until she physically couldn't even sit up anymore. The vet told us that this was typical of retrievers. Because they're so loyal, you know.

I've had some amazing friends in this life. A couple that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. But no friend as devoted to me as Sable was. And to this day, the tiniest thing will trigger my memory and it'll be back to the pain I felt the minute my dad picked her up and took her away.

Wherever you are, Sabledog, I love you, and I miss you. <3