August 25th 2008 7:27 pm
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As I paw at the keyboard, I see my best friend tearing up. It is painful for him to see me in pain, and it is painful for me to see him see me in pain. I pray that the pain eases soon, so that we shall both be relieved.

I know, though, that once the pain has stopped, it means that I shall be joining other dogs in that other dimension. I'm scared of that unknown but at the same time, I'm excited to meet other dogs and be reunited with fellow canines who've gone ahead.

As much as I am excited to discover a whole new world and experience new adventures, I feel a little pang whenever I think of my best friend. How will he fare without me? Will he be lonely? Who will take care of him? I struggle to sit up and look at him, but I know all he sees is me dazed, confused and in pain. He utters my name: "Cognac." I try to bark back but no sound—not even a wimpy squeak—comes out. I hate this. Why am I so weak? I can't even reassure my best friend that I will be fine.

And so, since I cannot speak anymore, I write this instead. I will be fine. I am happy knowing that soon I will frolic among my friends in dog heaven, playing fetch and running as far and for as long as I want, barking as loudly as I can without anyone shushing me, and frisk and romp under the sun.

I will miss you, my best friend. The only things I will carry with me as I cross over are my memories of you and our times together. I hope you won't feel sad for long, for I will always be with you, watching over you from doggie heaven. I will have my friends and family around me, so don't you worry about me.

One day, we will meet again. But for now, so long...