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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Personal · #2061144
The loss of a best friend.
I've always been fond of dogs.
I had always wanted one to call my own.
A friend had shown me a picture of 3 puppies being sold.
I was happy. I was excited to take one home.
Black and white fur caught my eyes.
They were my favorite colors during that time.
I was sad to know the youngest of my three brothers had already taken him home.
One puppy was left his fur a bright white and gold.
Although, I liked him very much he took a liking to my older brother who stayed at my home.
I would occasionally visit the two other puppies at my youngest brothers home.
I was always excited to see black and white fur.
My heart sunk each time I saw them. Fur covered in dirt and fleas covering his pink skin.
They didn't want the puppies anymore and I was more than happy to take both home.
Black and white took a liking to me he would always follow me.
I loved playing hide and seek with him.
Brown and black fur was my sister's little girl.
She looked chubby but actually it was just that she had a bunch of fur.
Days past and school began.
My attention was focused on other things rather than my little boy.
I regret not being with him the day he disappeared.
I remember seeing my brother digging a whole before I went to sleep.
I just never imagined it would be the place my baby would rest in peace.
The next morning I woke up never bothering to check on my little black and white dog.
I hate myself for that.
When i noticed he wasn't around I remember thinking he might've been dead.
That he had run away.
The memory of my brother digging a hole appeared in my head.
I just had to make sure was what I said.
I began moving the dirt with my bare hands glass and rocks hurt but I didn't care.
My breathing became more rapid and shallow as white cloth appeared.
I rested my hand over it feeling something underneath it.
I pulled it up and opened it.
I began crying.
His eye wide and bloodshot was visible.
He had been through something horrible.
I covered him now noticing blood covered the cloth.
What had happened?
I cried as I finished covering him in dirt.
I couldnt bare to not see him move.
To not see his warm black eyes curiously looking at.
To not have the feeling of his paws on my legs when he would happily jump on me when I arrived home.
I had been a horrible owner.
I couldve stopped it.
Now I was here writing my heart out in hopes to lift the sadness from my heart.
Crying as I wrote down the memories I had of him.
Crying knowing I wont be able to ever have him back.
Now his favorite spot on my bed will never be used again.
And never getting to hug him and show him how much such a little dog like himself meant the world to me.
I will forever love my little dog Oreo.

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