Goodbye Old Friend

As I lugged my suitcase down the driveway, I couldn't wait to get in and tell my mum about all the mischief my friends and I had gotten into on our trip to Budapest. This was my first time away from home, completely unsupervised, and I had loved every second. At eighteen, I've had my fair share of misery these past few years, so for a few days I felt like I had finally reached a point where I was happy.

Somebody opened the door to my house, and my little dog ran out to greet me. No human came through the door. Strange, but not unheard of.

'Did you miss me?' I asked my dog, bending down to pat his tummy.

I'd met some people in Hungary who I followed on social media purely so I could show them photos of my dogs, my utter pride and joy. I couldn't wait to do this. But in a split second, something dawned on me. Otto, my other dog didn't come outside. I walked into the house only to be greeted by my tearful mum, and my dad who couldn't look at me.

"Has he died?" I asked. This would not be the first time in the past three- years that I have walked into my house and received the news that someone I love very much has died. I look forward to the day where one day I can walk into my house and not fear that I've lost somebody else.

With a solemn nod, my mum confirmed my fear, and led me to sit down in the lounge. And I did, and they explained that he had become very ill, very quickly. There was a part of me that knew this would happen; Otto was only 10, but for the past eight months had been battling a rare form of cancer. We knew he was terminal, but I don't think the thought of losing him ever really entered my mind. He would always just potter in the background, like he always did. My brain did not have the capacity to begin the grieving process all over again - I was only just beginning to heal from the last time, and the time before that. Nobody had told me whilst I was away, so that my fun was not spoiled. There was nothing I could have done whilst 900 miles away except feel the familiar pit in my stomach.

Being flooded with anger, as we all are when we hear something we hope is not true, I stood from my seat and ran to the bathroom, shouting something at my parents that I don't even remember. I did not have a chance to say goodbye. The very last thing I said before leaving for my trip was "Should I say a proper goodbye to Otto? Just in case?"

"You won't need to" my mum replied, thinking that we had at least one more month with our little friend. It wasn't her fault that instead of a month, it was a matter of days, but it was so shocking that I looked for someone else to put the blame on.

My mum followed me upstairs, and knelt beside me whilst I sobbed, the way she might have done had I been eight again. I wished I was eight again, at that point, Otto had just been born and was getting ready to come and live with us a few months afterwards. When I was eight, things had not changed the way they have now. Not only does the loss of my pet sting, but it leaves an open wound that reminds me that the last parts of my childhood are over. Really, my pets were the only remnants of childhood that I still had. I no longer stay in touch with friends from primary school, many of my family have moved away, and soon I will be moving away from home for the very first time. Our house used to be a busy haven where it seems like everyone would gather. It wouldn't be unusual to have at least ten people round for a roast dinner on Sundays, and there would be at least four dogs in our presence.

Now, all that is gone. It went with Otto. There are only three of us, and one dog at roast dinners on Sundays now. Soon, when I leave, there will be only my parents and our last dog remaining.

When I sat on the way home with my new puppy in a box on my lap, I never thought about who I would be in ten years, about all the good times and bad times I would go through, and how this dog would be there through all of them and how he would always provide a wet nose and soppy kiss when I needed one. I never thought about losing him, or how it might feel. I only knew that the stuff in the middle was so much more worth it, and I couldn't wait to spend our time, however long it was, together.

I'll give credits to my eight-year-old self. She wasn't wrong when she thought that the stuff in the middle was so much more worth it than the pain you feel when you lose a dog. Otto gave me some of the best years of my life. Maybe one day, in the future, another dog may give me some more years that I will look back on, and wish that I could do all over again.

I miss Otto. I will always miss Otto. There will always be a little piece of my heart that absolutely belongs to him. But, the birds carry on singing and the sun continues to rise every day.

Give your dogs a cuddle, from me and Otto.