Layla

Layla is the greatest dog anyone could ever ask for. End of story, there’s nothing left to say. She’s been running around our house for going on five years now, and I’ve loved every minute of it. She may have eaten my halloween candy, and pooped in my room…multiple times, I’ve more than forgiven her for that. Layla has been the light of my life for the past five years, I can hardly even imagine going home to find an empty house, or waking up without the pitter-patter of her little paws on the hardwood floors. Through good times and bad, she’s always been there for me. No one has, no one can, and no one will ever replace her. In my mind she will always be the shinning little puppy we brought home all those years ago.

Today sucks. There is no other way to put it, it just flat out sucks. Layla hasn’t been in the best of spirits lately. We found out a few weeks ago, she has cancer. The vet told us that there was a large tumor in her spleen. She wasn’t in pain, but the tumor was malignant. It’s gotten to the point where she can no longer stand up straight, so we had to put her down this morning. The worst part of it all was when we had to carry her to the car, her beautiful eyes staring back at me, her body hardly able to move. No one deserves to go out like that. To be carried around, too sick to move, to see that person that you love so dearly reduced to an immovable mass.

I never liked the term “RIP”. It’s too general and lazy. You can’t simply sum up someone’s life with one dumb little phrase. Layla was more than that, she deserves more than that. When she was around, I hadn’t a care in the world. What I’d give to play catch with her, just one last time. Layla wasn’t just a dog that we kept around, she was family, she was a Gilmartin through and through. I hate this, I hate all of it. I hate that she has to go, I hate that I can’t play with my dog, I hate that I’m writing this blog post. When you lose someone, they shouldn’t be mourned. No one deserves to be mourned, to grieve for someone is to forever associate their life with sadness. Instead we should be celebrating the wonderful times we’ve had. That dog I carried into the car this morning wasn’t Layla, no she died weeks ago. Layla was the one who ate my halloween candy, she was the one tore apart all her toys from sheer excitement, she was the one who just wanted to play ball. Layla never really died, and she never will. Layla is destined to live on, not as some spirit dictated by some earthly religion, no she will always be there as a reminder to just be happy. Layla

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