Bullets on the Pillow

My best friend just died 30 minutes ago. The foot of my bed is empty. My stomach hurts, my body shakes. 2/28/13 is the day I lost my best friend. I sleep alone now. I walk to the kitchen alone now. I walk into the house and can't help but notice who's missing, who's gone. And she's not coming back. My last memory of her was lifting her dead body into a garbage bag. Intestines everywhere. Limp. Immobile. I get excited to cry so I can feel better, but then I remember it won't be better. She's not coming back. My heart hurts. My head hurts. 
Full sprint down the neighborhood in disbelief. I prayed. My prayers were ignored as I heard my mother shouting. Please god, just say it isn't Molly. It was Molly. Laying down on her side. Then the hope that she's just hurt went into me, quickly crushed by the sight blood. Never will I forgot seeing 3 feet of intestines hanging out if her gut. She looked healthy. Except for her gut. She's not coming back. This is the time I needed a best friend and she was taken straight from me. Why couldn't she just listen and stay in the yard like a normal dog? She never learned that we live on a highway . Her tail wag gets me out of bed in the morning. Not anymore. How can I get out of bed now. My empty bed. I feel guilty even thinking of replacing her. I can't handle this. Getting attached so close only to lose her at such a young age. So many years ahead of her. She knew me better than anybody. Dogs aren't stupid. They know what goes on. The only think that feels good is to write. Knowing my emotions will never be forgotten now. Or Molly will never be forgotten. She lives on; in pictures, in memories, in spirit. I carry her wherever I go, whether it be her leftover dog hair on my clothes, or the fact that I know she's watching me. She'll be at the foot of my bed when I fall asleep and will just leave as I wake up. She's still alive, I just can't see her. She's busy. Doing better things, greater things. Nothing I want more then to see her again. But at the same time, there's nothing I want more then for her to be happy; and I know she's happy up there. Wherever she is. Nobody wants to lose their dog. But I feel like when another person's dog dies, it's nothing. You don't care. It wasn't your dog. It wasn't your best friend. It was an animal. But when your own dog is gone, man, it's not just an animal. It's not like losing a family member or losing a friend, because it's losing both. You can't replace a dog. You can try, but you just can't. You can replace a house, a car, or even a girlfriend, but you can't replace a dog. Man's best friend. You can't replace them.

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