Just 25 days ago, I buried Horatio.
today I buried Jack.
To anyone else, they were just dogs.
Sweet little dogs with their own indiosincracies, but dogs nonetheless.
they were the world.
They helped me survive decades of life-crushing Clinical Depression.
They convinced me on three separate occasions that suicide was not a solution.
One night, fourteen years ago, when Jack was not even one, I was full of despair.
Utterly bereft of hope.
I was sitting on my couch, drinking red wine and crying.
Really, really sobbing.
Jack was sitting by my feet, and as I sobbed – he howled.
He howled like a wolf at the moon. He sat at my feet, and he sang a deep forgotten song from his ancestors. In unison with my own pain.
He had never done it before and has not done it since.
And from that day, he and I have had a bond. A tether bound by sadness and primal sounds.
He became my soulmate.
And I have loved him so deeply.
With every fibre and every breath.
He was such a beautiful dog.
He was more than a dog.
He really was.
This is the last image I have have of him with breath in his body.
So today I dug a hole, and I kissed his cold head and stroked his beautiful soft fur and I said a goodbye. A goodbye that resonates so fiercely that I sob as I type.
My beloved, beautiful Jack.
My life will never be the same.
I will love you forever and ever and ever.
God I miss you so much already.