I love you, Black Dog.

It’s stupid to cry over a dog. He didn’t care for me like my mother or father or grandmother. I never actually got an answer out of him despite all the times I asked him wether he was okay in a baby voice that was only for him. He was a picky bastard that never told me he loved me despite the fact that I got on a dirty floor to hug him 5 times per day. And he was nosy too. Could I lie on the couch and watch TV by myself? No. He had to be there. Could I eat my food in peace? No. He had to be there to help me finish (he was essentially my nutritionist). Could I go for a run by myself? No. He had to be there to sprint faster than me, the competitive monster.

But he was mine in the same way I was his. Could he just nap and dream? No. I had to be there to scratch his ears and scratch his belly even though he was perfectly happy dozing. Could he amuse himself playing with his neon rubber chicken? No. I had to be there to wrestle it out of his mouth and throw it across the apartment even though if he wanted to play fetch he would’ve fucking told me.

We were brothers. If there were two pillows on a double bed he would take one for himself, like we were newborn twins sharing a crib. If I got a burger he would remind me, by placing his head on my thigh and kicking my shin, that it was our burger. If we went for a walk he had no sense of leniency — if he was going to sprint after a cat through a tiny alley-way and through a bush then I was bloody well going with him. If I had a football, I damn well better pass it to him or he was going to kill it in 3… 2… 1…

I love you, Jim. I love you because, when we adopted you, you could quite comfortably sit in the palm of my hand, or take shelter from the summer sun under a dock-leaf, or beam at me with pride when you had successfully hunted a grasshopper. When you first came into my life you were so tiny you couldn’t reach the next step on the stairs, so you would look at me as if to say “You gonna carry me up for my nap or are we just gonna wait for me to learn to fly?!” I love you because you kept me alive. Through bullying and loneliness and depression you gave my life purpose — you’re a big hunter with a heart of pure gold that needs to run every two hours. I hope you’re happy wherever you are, that there are plenty of cats and rabbits and massive seagulls (you remember that one time you fought a seagull and it was simultaneously the proudest and most embarrassed I have ever been?!)

I love you, Jimmy, Jimbob, Jimbobthedog, Black Dog, Baby Bear. Please visit.