Dear Charlotte,
You have been there by my side through my childhood, always there to comfort me. Your white fur was what I cried into when I had a bad day, and your fluffy belly is what I used as a pillow when I was exhausted. You didn’t care what I was doing, what I looked like, or who I was with. You just cared. You cared so deeply that I would often find myself wanting to be around you more than my friends, family, or really anybody. I look into your sweet, root-beer-colored eyes and see myself ten years ago: pure, innocent, and naive. When I got home from school, you were the first thing to greet me at the door and shower me with your endless love.
My heart ached when I thought about the fact I was going to lose you one day. I will never forget the day I came downstairs and there was a doctor with a needle, and you were lying helplessly on the floor. I thought about all the times you made it through, so why couldn’t you make it through this? You got hit by a whole car, and you ended up okay. You fought. Why couldn’t you fight now? But the answer is, you can’t fight something like this. Your age caught up to you, and that’s okay.
You went peacefully, but the world I lived in after you was everything but peace. I got home from school and the house was empty, quiet. No wagging tail is aggressively hitting my legs as I try to walk through the door, and no sounds of you barking at people through the front door are heard. The nothingness is a void I can’t fill, no matter what I do. Now, we have two dogs in the house, so it’s never quiet. It’s weird because nothing has ever felt right since you left.
Going back to the memory of seeing you getting carried out on a dog carrier and placed into the back of a truck will always haunt me. Seeing you lifeless, leaving you with nothing but the scent of death was the strangest feeling. I always thought that you were going to be there forever, until you weren’t. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, just very unwanted. Whenever I hear your name, sadness washes over me. The tears might have stopped coming out of my eyes, but the pain never left. I miss you, and I’ve missed you for a long time. I remember a few days after your death, we got your paw print. Your delicate, soft, paw mark imprinted onto a white clay circle.
It has been a long time since you passed, but the memory of you lives on in our home. Every time I think of you I see an old, fragile dog with eyes dark as soil and fur as white as snow. I was there for your entire life, but you were only there for one part of mine. I’m forever grateful that part was my childhood because you taught me so many things, even if you are just a dog.