The death of a pet can bea truly emotionally distressing experience that creates an empty space in ourhearts and most certainly, our lives; and almost proportional to the loss of animmediate family member or friend.It was an afternoon after school and Iwent on a run with my dog, Blyson. It was still quite early in the fall so theair smelt vaguely of dead leaves and the trees colored an attractive gradientof red with very little green. He followed close behind me, his long, brownears flapping in the wind, pawing his way through the heaps of leaves that hadfallen off the trees onto the pavement. Being exhausted after an hour ofrunning, I crouched down, stopping for a moment to catch my breath, putting myhands on my knees. In that moment, I look up and Blyson is out of sight.Immediately, I spot his neck collar loosely attached to a branch on the ground.
I ran through the street as fast as I could, my legs going a mile a minute.I get around a corner andspot his spotted body laying limp on the side of the street. The worst came tomind. I ran over to him and he’s laying in a pool of blood.
I fell to my knees,feeling the hard thud of the cold pavement against my knees. Hemust have been hit. This was reality. I grabbed him and held him, rocking him back andforth. I sat there for a long time holding him and at eleven years old, Ilearned almost what it felt like to lose a child. Ilook around for someone to help, on the verge of tears. A grey haired man,dressed in brightly colored plaid from head to toe approached me with a look ofworry on his face.
I explained to him what had happened and immediately offeredto help. He called the animal paramedics and narrated the story better than Iwould have in my trembling state. I layed on the floor next to my dog silentlyhoping for a miracle to happen. Some minutes later, I hear the faint blare of asiren but loud enough to know the direction it was coming from. As the paramedicsgot onto the scene, my hands trembled with fear. A tall, middle aged man stood,towering above me and gets Blyson into the ambulance and I followed along withthem.On getting to the vet, Blyson is rushedinto an emergency room and I sit in the lobby with my head in my hands and faceto floor, terrified of what was happening.
My eyes move slowly around the dimlylit lobby, taking in my surroundings, tears flowing down my eyes. I looked backdown staring at the cracks between the ceramic tiles. My hands were red fromclenching them so hard. At that moment, nothing else mattered.
I was numb. I felt nervous,afraid, and anxious, all at once. Slowly, I opened my eyesbut I could not see anything. The whole place was dark. I started panickingwhen I could not make out the shape of anything in the room. I was scared todeath.
I sat there for hours. A little while passed by and then I heard the creak of the woodendoor and as my eyes went up, a brown haired man approached me,clad in a long white jacket and I assumed him to be the vet. Just then, I knewsomething had gone terribly wrong.
I could not bring myselfto look at him. He told me that Blyson is gone. I immediately fell to thefloor, wishing for it not to be true. I remember wondering if I was ever goingto get over it. The memory came to me of how hard it was to convincemy mom of getting me a dog.One of the most importantlessons I learnt from Blyson was loyalty. He was fiercely loyal, and would do anythingfor me. Likewise, we can be just as loyal with our relationships withpeople.
Focusing on being loyal to the people you love is an easy way to makeyour relationships even stronger. Loyalty is such an admirable and importantquality that Blyson possesed. Another one of the lessons I learnt from Brysonis to live in the moment and he lived right there, always present in themoment. This canine mentality is truly a joyous and positive way of living yourlife.