- Joined
- Jan 23, 2015
- Messages
- 11,489
- Reaction score
- 2,821
Very sorry to hear, I love dogs a lot. I'm sure yours was an amazing pet and friend. Never easy losing something or someone so close to you. In 2015 my aunties Labrador died, it was 7 years old. I was very close with it since they brought it home. In 2014 my family decided it would be best for me to go live out in the country with my auntie and her family after a certain incident involving drugs happened.
I moved out there, angry, depressed and very very alone. My uncle was putting me to work everyday helping work the property and I couldn't stand it at first. My uncle thought I was being a little asshole when I would complain sometimes but he didn't understand I was battling my substance problems while being away from most of my family and all of my friends. The only thing that helped me through that time was that lab, Buster.
He was a hell of a dog, energetic and always excited. I would play with him all day and take him for walks down the country roads. Soon he would come to the basement at night to come lay down with me while I slept. As soon as I woke up he was right there. That always made my morning. While I would work he would stay with me all day just chilling, running around while I was doing w.e.
Those four or five months turned my life around, completely renewed my relationship with that side of my family. I got into shape working out there, learned a bunch of useful stuff from my uncle and more importantly I got clean from a certain drug. I still like to drink lol. After I left my auntie told me Buster was bummed out for awhile, I would visit when I could and it was awesome.
A few months after I had left I woke up to the worst news ever, Buster had been run over and he didn't make it. He ran to the road at night time and right in front of a van. I cried pretty hard that morning. Pets are amazing, that dog was one of the bestfriends I'd ever had I think.
I moved out there, angry, depressed and very very alone. My uncle was putting me to work everyday helping work the property and I couldn't stand it at first. My uncle thought I was being a little asshole when I would complain sometimes but he didn't understand I was battling my substance problems while being away from most of my family and all of my friends. The only thing that helped me through that time was that lab, Buster.
He was a hell of a dog, energetic and always excited. I would play with him all day and take him for walks down the country roads. Soon he would come to the basement at night to come lay down with me while I slept. As soon as I woke up he was right there. That always made my morning. While I would work he would stay with me all day just chilling, running around while I was doing w.e.
Those four or five months turned my life around, completely renewed my relationship with that side of my family. I got into shape working out there, learned a bunch of useful stuff from my uncle and more importantly I got clean from a certain drug. I still like to drink lol. After I left my auntie told me Buster was bummed out for awhile, I would visit when I could and it was awesome.
A few months after I had left I woke up to the worst news ever, Buster had been run over and he didn't make it. He ran to the road at night time and right in front of a van. I cried pretty hard that morning. Pets are amazing, that dog was one of the bestfriends I'd ever had I think.
