Bronco, My Greatest Friend

His kind is known as man’s best friend.

Whoever said that have never been more right.

For he was the best and closest friend I could ever have,

not even my own kind can replace him.

He was never the brightest lamp in the house,

for he would always run away,

off to seek new adventures beyond home.

In my heart I knew he would come back,

although my head thought otherwise.

He would always know when I need him most;

he would hop on the bed and lay beside me,

ignoring the tear-soaked pillows.

We both snuggled together nice and tight,

our spirits lifting in comfort with each others’ presence.

There were times that I would pick him up,

stroked his gray fluffy hair with my fingernails

and tell him about my day.

But I would always tell him how much I love him.

Every chance I got, I tell him.

When his age started to show,

I hoped for it to pass,

praying for it to be his arthritis during the cold.

But that was only the beginning.

Weeks passed and he grew worse.

He no longer had the strength to support his own weight.

I’d take him outside, letting his salt and pepper body bathe in the spring sun.

I even made sure he was standing.

There were days that I would drop everything,

even my most loved pastime,

to lie down beside him and pet his aged head for countless hours.

It tore my heart to see him suffer like this,

unable to walk and breathe in a parched tone.

I couldn’t control myself due to my fallen tears.

We hoped he passed during the night before the day came.

He remained awake, leaving my father no choice.

I gave him my final goodbye, with his fragile face confused.

Taking his chain collar, I vanished into my room,

into the darkness that welcomed me in my sorrow,

holding all that’s left of him with all my might.

My mother and sister came in and we cried together.

Just when we were calming down with leftover teardrops,

the gunshot made us sob harder than before,

hard enough to flood the whole bedroom.

We all said Divine Mercy when he was buried,

and talked about the good times we had with him.

I remained outside while everyone went back inside.

I had never felt so empty before.

It was as if someone ripped out every happy moment of my life

and left me an abyss of all the world’s nothingness.

I told him to tell our deceased family members that I said hello

before saying goodbye one more time.

I got better later on that evening,

knowing that he was in a better place.

A place where he will no longer suffer

and will forever be happy.

I watched “Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey,”

one of my childhood favorites, while I ate my dinner.

I still can’t think of the speech that Shadow gave by the river

without spilling a tear or two.

But he’s right about one thing: dogs are indeed man’s best friend.

And Bronco was the greatest friend of them all.