She was two months old when I got her. And just four months when he took her.
Soft, long, golden fur. A tongue that was always hanging out and dripping with saliva. She loved to lick my face. She loved to cuddle up to me at night. And I loved all that about her.
I got her because I was lonely and lost in a way that no human companion wants to fix. But from the day I picked her up I didn’t feel alone anymore. I have two dogs now, one sweeter than the other, but I still thank Bessie for saving me.
I lost her the fourth of April. We were out of the city so that she could run without leash and Bessie loved running after the frisbee and I took the chance to practice a few commands with her.
Bessie rolled down onto the floor with her belly up and what seemed like a grin on her face.
First Rex started growling. Then he disappeared. Then he brought a gift. I should have seen it. I should have understood my best friend of three years better than this.
When Shana came home I tried to explain everything. I wanted to talk to her but she walked up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut. By the time I came upstairs she was already under the blanket. I placed a hand where I thought her shoulder would be.
“I can’t take it,” she said. “I can’t take this anymore.”
I pulled the blanket off her head. There were tears on her face.
“I can’t take it anymore, the way Rex behaves.”
I nodded. I hugged her. I wanted to explain; I wanted her to understand. But all I could say was.
I lay next to her for ten or twenty minutes. Shana’s breath turned to the steady and regular breathing of a happy sleep. I brushed my teeth and sat at the end of the bed, thinking about what to do. Continue reading →