It’s been over a year now, and it still hurts me. To remember. I lost my best friend for a stupid action someone did. They were not thinking and in the end, ended up killing my best friend of over seventeen some odd long years. Okay…maybe it’s not a typical thing to grieve about, but my dog was my best friend and he’s long gone. He was a good part of my life, he was there when my family split, from our move from South Dakota to Iowa, through most of every trauma I had when I was growing up. He was always there to lay a head in my lap and listen to my rants, my fears, my cries. He was always there to cheer me up, however reason that he came up with, dropping a tennis ball into my lap…or barking at my brother. He was perfect. The day he died, my life was turned upside down. My best friend was ripped from my life. I had no one to rely on to keep my secrets hidden. To be a buffer when I needed someone to talk to. To be there for me. My mom did try her best to get me another dog, but sadly he didn’t work out. He wasn’t the same. I think now I have to heal before I try to replace him.