I bought my son a puppy when he was little. I remember I bought it for his second birthday.
I give him a dog partly because he didn't have siblings, and I wanted him to have someone to grow up with, and partly because my son was born with a neuro-opthalmic disorder that—basically,
he was born blind—and so having a guide dog wasn't a bad idea.
He was the BEST dog any boy could've ever had, and I can honestly tell you that the I have never seen my son as happy, and as excited, as the day I brought him home.
From the moment on, he has never left my son's side. They always played together, slept together, took walks together, ate together, and sometimes they even took baths together.
They grew up together, doing everything together...which is probably why it was so hard on him when Max died. I remember how he barely ate for months.
At some points, it got so bad that he wouldn't eat for days. He wouldn't even go out of the house anymore, because he never went out without Max, but now...now, Max was gone.
It's been a year since, and I don't really know why I'm sharing this with you guys.
Maybe because I thought it would somehow make things better, and—don't get me wrong, I do feel better—but I don't think anything is ever going to fill this hole inside my heart.
Max was good boy, and I miss him dearly. Not a single day goes by without me wishing that I could see him again, that I could hold Max in my arms again.
I want to tell him how much his dog misses playing with him.
We miss him dearly...
We miss him everyday...