Mylowe

strange world we are living in now. Grieving time has been cut down by many folds. typical conversation:
"oh my uncle just had a heart attack. very sad. i need to see him later in the hospital... Hey! before that do u want to catch a movie?"
"aunt died last yesterday, very close to us, of course.. By the way, you know the report i was asking u about last week, are you able to hand it in by today?"

2 weeks ago, 5 June, I killed my own dog.

2 months ago, 1 May, I adopted him from the pet shop.

He was a beautiful golden retriever, we named him Mylowe. He was what i'd never known a dog to be. He was gentle, would lay on my lap for hours, he followed us upstairs, didn't chew up anything, had really stinko breath. He would play with the 2 monsters, prancing around the garden like a real puppy, rolling over when he wanted to admit defeat. He was a great fetcher. You throw the ball, he chases it in all seriousness.

5 June, he died. 1 and a half months after entering our lives, he left.

a dog that never gave any trouble, never barked, never fought, never pulled on the leash... maybe too good to be mine.

Thank you Mylowe, for being in my life once.

Thank you Mylowe, for not hating me when i ran out of the car and looked at you, panting blood.

Thank you Mylowe, for looking at me with love that last 3 mins of your life.