They Said It Was Just a Dog

They tell you not to cry.
They say it’s just a dog, not a person.
They say the pain will pass.
They say animals don’t know they have to die.
They say the important thing is not to make him suffer.
They say you can have another.
They say it will pass.
They say there are more unbearable pains.

But they don’t know:
How many times you looked your dog in the eye, seeing a soul that understood yours without words.
How many nights it was just you and him, staring into the dark, sharing a silence that spoke volumes.
How many times he was the only one by your side, when the world felt too heavy to face alone.
How he never judged you, only loved you, exactly as you were.

They don’t know:
How his cries in the night scared you, because you couldn’t bear to see him in pain.
How he slept near you, a quiet guardian, a steady warmth.
How much you changed because of him, how he taught you patience, kindness, unconditional love.
How you hugged him when he was sick, wishing you could take his pain away.
How you pretended not to notice his hair turning white, because acknowledging it meant facing the inevitable.

They don’t know:
How many times you talked to him, knowing he was the only one who truly listened.
How beautiful you were in his eyes, even on your darkest days.
How he knew when you were suffering, before anyone else did.
How he made you feel things you didn’t know you could feel, a love so pure it defied explanation.
How it broke your heart to see him struggle, just to wag his tail and greet you one more time.

They don’t know:
That when everything else went wrong, he was the one who stayed.
That he trusted you with his life, even in his final moments.
That he loved you more than anything, and all he ever asked for was you.
That crying for him is not weakness, but the deepest kind of love.

They don’t know:
The last time you carried him, careful not to hurt him, your heart already breaking.
The way you caressed his face, whispering goodbye, as he took his final breath.

They don’t know:
That grief is not measured by the species lost, but by the love shared.
That your tears are not just for him, but for the part of you he took with him.
That in mourning him, you honour the bond that shaped you.

They tell you not to cry.
But you cry anyway, because love like his deserves tears.
Because grief is the price of love, and love like his is worth every tear.

Last walk with Kyira