Today I had my heart broken. I'm lucky that my heart has been fully intact for as long as it has; a little bumped and bruised along the way, but never broken. Today all that changed when I said goodbye to the kindest soul in my life.
Throughout my teenage years I was struck with some health problems. Not a major illness, but I was majorly ill. It made, and still makes, life very difficult for me. I lost touch with a lot of friends due to my inability to leave the house. I lost the opportunity to move away for university. I lost the ability to live daily life without medication, the thought of which terrified me more than anything. I lost my sparkle. I lost a lot. The day I kissed my dreams of moving away goodbye, my dad made me a deal - I stay at home, I get a dog. I have been afraid of dogs for a long time, but my family were so excited by the idea and I was going to be at home alone a lot (an even bigger fear than dogs). It seemed like a good plan.
Sam-I-Am (the artist formerly known as Harry) picked us as soon as we stepped into the kennels. He just straight up told us he was coming home with us. We tried to explain to him that he had to pass the 'cat test' first (7 year old me to thank for that). He couldn't care less about cats, apparently. A+. Off we go. Job done, dog's your uncle.
I've heard it said that dogs become like their owners over the years but us? We were instantaneous. Could we have picked a dog that I could relate to any more than Sammy?! Ginger hair? Check. Serious social anxiety? Check. Prone to over-excitement? Check. Fear of dogs? Check. There could never have been a more perfect match. We were inseparable. Every night I would climb into bed and then scoot over so that he could get near the radiator. Every afternoon we would sit on the back step and mull over big life events. Every evening...we wouldn't go for walks. I won't lie. We tried once or twice. It just wasn't for us.
That dog meant more to me than I could ever put into words. He gave me back my sparkle. He, quite literally, gave me a reason to get out of bed every morning, even when I felt like moving would finish me off for good. Even when I had been awake all night screaming in pain. He would jump, dance, slobber and sometimes actually push me out of my duvet-cave to land on the floor.
On the days I did manage to get out the house to go to lectures it was a painful parting. On the days when I would get to the end of the street and then have to turn around and go back home he would act like we had been apart for months. The nights when the ambulance would come he would sit right beside me until the very last minute.
It might seem that you cannot communicate with animals but I see it very differently. Sam would laugh with us, he would squeeze up close to us if we were sad, his winks were the funniest things I have ever witnessed, always so well-timed! He would be downright depressed if one of us went away.
Today, I know how he feels. I stayed with him in his last moments, my lovely ginger-turned-grey pooch, and I hugged him and I thanked him for being my best friend. I thanked him for being my own personal foot-warmer. I thanked him for eating all the food I really didn't want (sorry Mum, truth is out!). I thanked him for staying with me through those poorly days and poorly nights, for getting me out of bed when nothing else could. I thanked him for saving me.
You know what he did? He sat down, he looked me straight in the eye...and he winked at me. I couldn't ask for more than that.
