"Don't take your time for granted or you will most definitely regret it." My own quote I would tell myself in order to concentrate on the significant and tender moments I'll never be able to reobtain. Time is fleeting, but memories are forever. All this is true, but as a teenager, one might think it is cliche and dismiss it as cheesy and insignificant.
Although I spent a lot (and I mean a lot) of good and special moments with him, I still feel like I could have created more. I should have done more or because it still feels like I took it all for granted somehow. I should have held him more, kissed him more, or just took better care of him. Sometimes I feel like what happened to him was my fault; ranging from "he fell off of a chair because I placed him there," to "maybe he walked funny and his hips were bad because I didn't feed him enough."
I loved him so much...honestly I don't think anyone could have deserved him, not even us. Thinking about it now, I actually strongly believe that God blessed us too much with his gentle presence...he was an authentic angel. He was too gentle and if he was hurting, he stayed quiet and you would never know unless you studied him. Luckily he died a quaint and peaceful death just like how he made our lives. It surprised us all how long he held on.
We called him "the dog with 9 lives." You'd be surprised if you heard all of the stories: he was bitten by a snake of some sort in our backyard in Texas once. He also got attacked by our neighbors Pitbulls next door when he dug a hole in the fence to investigate the strange noise of the other dogs next door. And oh, yeah, he ran away TWICE, but came back both times. The first time, he dug himself (another hole) out of our very tiny backyard attached to our condo. When I went back there as a small child, I was scared and confused. "Did he even love me? What did I do, dad?" My parents tried to explain it to me. I think they even told me the whole "It's just apart of life, sweetie" shpiel. After they told me to come inside, I lingered next to the hole under our fence for just a moment longer, a way of me silently saying my goodbyes to the small mutt. After I did that and started to walk away, to my surprise (and everyone else' surprise) he dug himself back into the fence and we all had a little family reunion in the backyard filled with tears and joy. The runaway incident was the funniest by far.
My next house as a child was bigger in every form; we had a media room, high and elegant ceilings, a very large backyard for us to run, build a swimming pool and still have room for a trampoline, and much more. So as you can imagine, it was heaven for a dog. A big large treat with a ribbon attached when we let him loose in that gigantic paradise of his in the back of the house. But the facade didn't last for long. One day I was out in the back playing with either a friend or my brother, but one of us left the gate open and he got out. The next thing I knew, I was calling for him with no response. I ran inside and alerted my family about what had happened and we went on a search in our car. When we drove back with no luck, he was sitting there....waiting for us on our front doorsteps. He was just sitting there peacefully and he started to stand and wag his tail when we arrived, still not moving from his place. How crazy is that? He loved something about us so much that he just ran for a second to explore something else and came back to what we think he most thought of as a home.
Do you know what I think is crazy about this? All these moments flooded back to me when he was laying on that horrible orange towel in the vet's office. And you know what the vet said to me? Not a lot of dogs live to be as old as he was. He was as old as me, but in dog years...that's crazy to even think about. He could be considered ancient. In line to be the world record of the oldest dog in history, as I like to tell myself. She even told us about the whole process. Whenever they give them the final stage shot, they can sometimes defecate or urinate in their last moments of life. She also told us that he will most likely pass away with his eyes still open. Ironically, none of that happened. He did not defecate or urinate and he closed his eyes and my parents said they thought they saw him smile or smirk. He was a rare case and we loved him for that. He was also the crazy one. He lived up to his name: Bozo.
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For anyone who is reading this and has gone through a similar experience, I just want you to know that there is hope for you and you can live in peace knowing that they are in the best shape of their life and they are happiest after they die. You know why? Dogs go to heaven.
At first, I was a skeptic of that whole thing. Someone told me that animals didn't go to heaven because only living things that have souls go to heaven. So I started looking into it. Then after I read up on it, I came to a conclusion and I told myself something that I think everyone should hear:
In the Bible, there is a place in heaven that contains the "Tree of Life." That tree of life resides in an area that obtains plants, animals, fruits, insects, and running water. All animals will live in harmony including lions and lambs. Sharks and fish will be friends and cheetahs and gazelles will sleep side by side. So after reading that I felt relief and said to myself, "Wait a minute...why did I believe what that person said about animals not going to Heaven anyway?" Because I started thinking about it; like really thinking about it. If dogs don't have souls, then how are they able to show emotion? Their tails are like the emotions on human faces. They are able to express love, passion, sadness, anger, happiness, and even grief. Animals have also been scientifically proven to be able to be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder: PTSD. If they are able to possess these emotions, then how are they not qualified to live in heaven along with every other once breathing human being? They were created by God's own hand, correct? So why are they not as worthy as us to live next to God's side?
Aside from that, I think the reason I grieve for my dog now is not that I don't believe that he will live forever, but because I will miss him. I love him and I wish I could cradle him a bit longer. I just want to touch him and pet him a few more times. I want to nuzzle my nose in his fur and breathe his scent, kissing his forehead, holding his gentle and tiny little paws and just groom him with my fingertips...one...last...time. But haven't I been given enough time? That's why time itself is so precious; a fragile and fleeting gift from heaven that we must not take for granted. You cannot revisit your memories even if you tried because life is not constructed that way. Grasp every moment tightly and breathe it in, because it may be your last.
