You know, this isn't much of a blog, but more of a rant. There aren't many other places I could write about what I want to write about, without a huge wave of horrid responses, making me feel worse. This isn't some depressing story, but more of a though of which I want to write about, and share with others of my personal experiences.

Even though, this happened to me over 5 years ago, this loss hit's hard, especially when thinking about what is undoubtedly going to happen, in the future. I am not looking for any responses, diamonds, or favorites, but I just want to put something out that people can see, think about it, and something that is going to let me pour out my thoughts onto a keyboard, something I love.

5 years ago, maybe less, maybe more, my favorite dog died, his name was Cujo. He was a German Shepard / Rottweiler mixed. He wasn't some nasty and furocious dog, he was one of the most gentle and lovable dogs I could've had. He didn't live with me, I lived in Pennsylvania, divorced parents, just going to middle school, a typical kids life, going onto his teens years.

I would visit my grandparents every year, maybe even twice or three times a year. They were on my mom's parents side, we would drive down, had to be a 10 hour drive, but it was well worth it. My favorite part of the trip, well, my second, was seeing Cujo. The first of course seeing my grand parents. Me and him were best buds, I used to rid on his back when I was younger, I didn't know any better. My grand parents got him right after I was born, we had a bond that no one could break. We would run and play, lay down together and sit on the couch. We were, we were just best friends. 

Well, long story short, the last time I would ever see Cujo was when we drove to my grandparents house. I saw him, we played, we had a great time. And, you know. I had 2 sisters at the time, I currently have 3. They didn't understand the bond me and him had, they didn't share the same love and compasition me and Cujo did. We drove home, and 5 or so days later, my mom got a call by my Papa, that he passed away. I remember the words "Alright, I'll tell them", that is what she said right before she hung up the phone. Right when those words entered my ear, I knew something wen't wrong. And it was either one of my grand parents, or Cujo. Right when those words, "Honey, Cujo died." It hit me, I ran up to my room, laid face first in my bed, and cried. I cried like no tomorrow, for days, for weeks. There was nothing I can do, and nothing I could do to stop. I knew he was gone, and I would never see him again. It, it's like a knife wen't through my soul, hitting me mentally, but not physically. I got poor grades, my relationship with my parents and my siblings became a total disaster, and I couldn't get over the fact that he was gone. So many god damn years I spent with him, couldn't prepare or compare to the devastation of me losing him. 

What is the point of getting your best friend, your family, and the one you love to just see them die 10 years later. What is the god damn point. It's like giving birth to a child, your family, knowing that they will die 10 years later.

As the months went on, I would still be very upset of the loss. I got this little board type thing, where you could put tacks on, papers, and all that. I would post pictures, write notes, and put badges and pins on it. The year after Cujo died, we went back to my grandparents house, and I gave them it. That year, everyone was in to those silly bands, the ones that formed animals and shapes. I had a phoenix, it was green. My Papa, he carried Cujo by himself, to his grave. He dug the whole, put the brown wooden cross into the ground, and labeled it Cujo, aside 3 other dogs. I took the phoenix, and put it on the top of the cross. It was Cujo's. My sister, she tried taking it off. I almost put her on the ground before my mom stepped in. Cujo meant the world to me, apart of my heart was just ripped from my body and thrown into a ditch. I went back inside, and we usually stayed there for the weekend. My papa and my nana would tell stories about how I was younger, how I rode on Cujo's back, played with him, all the good memories. Yet, none of that could ever compare to his death, of how I felt. No matter how I felt before, it couldn't make up for what I felt now. 

To be honest, I just wanted to kill myself. I knew I wasn't going to do it, but I knew I was that depressed. There are factors you need to take into account when you think of such an act, who would be affected by it, why you want to do it. 

1. My family. I can't do that to my family.

2. Cujo. Cujo died, and even though I am the most depressed I have ever been, he wouldn't want me to do that. 

These two things are the exact things I told myself. That I couldn't do that to my family, and he wouldn't want me to do it. Either way, I will NEVER do it. It's not an option in this world, no matter what you keep fighting for who you love, what you love, and you never give up, especially on yourself.

Anyway. Years have past, I'm driving, don't have a girlfriend, grades are still, meh, but, there is one thing that has peiced me back together. Her name, is Charlie. Charlie is my Labrador Retreiver. She is 5, she has about 7 more years to go. But, then comes back that question. Why would you get a dog, that you know is going to die. Once again, all the memories me and her had, and even though we aren't as close to Cujo, seeing that my sisters are very fond of Charlie, more so than Cujo, those memories. Those good times where we laid on the couch together. Where she put her head on my chest and my arm around her, it felt great. It felt great to know what she loved me, and that I loved her. Those memories, they just can't prepare or compare for the feeling that will happen, no matter what.

You might be wondering, why am I saying this? Well, I just watched all the cutscenes to the game The Last of Us. If you know what it is, you know how depressing it can be. It's a great game. The man, his name is Joel. He loses his daughter one the zombie apocolypse hits his town. He doesn't lose her to a zombie, but to a man. He was commanded to shoot the girl and her dad, it was orders.

The girl dies, and not even a quarter of the way through the game, he is given the task to deliver a girl, who is immune to the infection, to the Fireflies. A military group, looking for a cure. Along the way, they create a bond. Like, a father and daughter bond. That's just like the bond me and Cujo had, a brother bond. A best friend bond, a family bond.

At the end, the only way to find a cure was to remove some sort of infection in her brain, and, well, that means killing her. Joel couldn't stand the fact that it would kill his new family, best friend, daughter if you will. He takes her and escapes. When she wakes up, they go on a walk, and she asks him to sware that everything about the fireflies, that he told her was true. He told her that there are dozens more like her, which there aren't. He said that they couldn't find a cure, which is a lie. He swares, and the story ends there. I don't blame Joel, you need to lie to protect, even if it means life or death.

I can't lose another member of my family, whether that be one of my sisters, my mom or dad, my little brother, or a pet. I lost a cat, his name was Mushroom. One of the nicest and friendly cats ever. I had him for, maybe a year. But, we had a great bond. We don't know what he died from, but, one night I was sleeping over at my nana's house, just up the street. When my dad picked me up, he said he died. I didn't cry, not at that moment. But, I knew I couldn't avoid it. We don't know what he died from, but, that he died in my room. That means something. An animal goes to die in the place that they are most comfortable in. He was most comfortable in my room, which means the world to me. My dad took me and my brother outside, he put him in a small cardboard box. I opened the cardboard box, and he said slid out. Lifeless, not moving. I wanted him to just wake up, so badly. But he didn't. Me and my brother, we just cried. We buried him, and that was that. A couple months later, we got a cat. Same breed, but smaller. Mushroom was bigger than Mac. That's the cats name, Mac. We still have him. I still have Charlie. But, like I said, none of the good memories can prepare of compare to the loss of them.

Not to mention the fact that my dad was diagnosed with a heart anurism 2 years ago. A heart anurism is a, bubble in one of your heart vessels. It, kind of clogs it. There are 2 ways to remove this heart anurism. Open heart surgery, or a tiny mesh that they fill it in with through your leg. 

My dad had a lot of stress through his life, more than others. And I'm sure there were times where he wanted to just say "you know what, I'm done." But he didn't. I didn't go through what he has gone through, but I've felt the same way. That, you know what, i'm done moment. It's happened to a lot of people, and it's happened to me and him.

I like to think everything happens for a reason. My dad has a not so good job. Don't get me wrong, we live in a nice house, nice neighborhood, it's not like I'm living in a shack or anything. Not to be rude, but it is life. 

One thing going for him is that he has connections, a lot of them. His friend, that used to teach me karate is a multi millionaire. He makes million dollar companies and sells them. He buys suites for sports, and all that rich people life stuff. Well, he's giving my dad a job. There's that point in life where you need to stop being a hard ass, which my dad is, and just admit that you are in trouble. My dad's job cut his salary, so he makes less. He was worried, he didn't know what to do. Like I said, everything happens for a reason. So now he is training to assist the doctors in the surgery room, with some needs through your bones type business.


You know, life is hell. It sucks. But, everything happens for a reason. You just need to get used to it. One thing I can tell you, is that I will never being getting any type of pet, ever. No matter what, I will never be prepared for that loss, and it won't compare to the good times. Because, once they are gone, they are gone. None of those good memories will happen again, they will only be remembered. 

This song goes out to Cujo. Sadly, I literally have no digital picture sof Cujo, I'll see if I can find some.





Here are some pictures of Charlie. Last three was when she was sleeping. :P







Everything happens for a reason. Make the most of what you have. Never give up.