My Love

After 12 years, my world has changed today.

I put my dog, Basil, to sleep.

Even typing those words is killing me, and I feel like my heart is literally breaking into pieces. These past few weeks, while fighting some type of infection, he just stopped eating, and at the end, he was literally skin, fur, and bones. As I type this, he is laying in the backseat of my car wrapped in a blanket. I don't know why I thought I would be able to bury him. I did want him near me, but I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not that strong. All I want to do is tuck him into bed and cover him with a blanket, not put him in the cold ground with dirt. I have grieved him several times over the past several weeks, months, and years, even; but, somehow, it was never real before today saying the words out loud.

To those who think I'm over-reacting and that he's "just a dog", you have to understand what Basil was to me and my life pre-Basil:

I was closed-off; Basil opened my heart.
I fought depression: Basil was my therapist.
I didn't believe in love; Basil was my 1st experience at unconditional love.
I doubted God; Basil showed me God was taking care of me.
I got stressed out; Basil would sit with me through the stress until I relaxed.
I feared intimacy; Basil taught me to trust.
I got sad and angry; Basil was always happy.
I worried about the future; Basil taught me to live each day individually and fully.
I don't make friends easily; Basil never met a stranger and only growled at 1 person in his entire life.
I had no friends; Basil was always my best friend without me having to earn it.
I didn't want to cry in front of anyone; Basil would let me hug him and cry on his shoulder however long I needed.
I have social anxiety; Basil didn't need to be entertained as long as he was around me.
I became angry with him when he ate a loaf of bread of the counter; Basil loved me anyway.
I came home from work after hours of neglecting him; Basil always wagged his tail and brought a toy to me at the door.
I didn't like asking for help; Basil knew when I needed him and when he could go elsewhere.
I didn't like yappy dogs; Basil only barked when he was looking at a squirrel in the tree thinking it was going to fall into his mouth.
I got scared to get out of my comfort zone; Basil was always up for an adventure.
I didn't trust men; Basil was oftentimes the only male I felt I could count on.
I kept lots of secrets; Basil would listen to me talk for hours and never interrupt or judge me.
I was not active; Basil was always ready for a walk or to play with his beloved tennis ball.
I kept myself isolated; Basil made me have to think about someone other than myself.

Basil was my best friend, my soul-dog, my teacher, my pillow, my emotional support, my best hugging partner, my sleeping buddy, my hiking companion, my movie watcher, my comic relief, my grooming experiment, my secret keeper, my child, my travel partner, my road warrior, yes, sometimes even my idol, and so much more than I cannot even begin to remember at this point.

I think Basil took better care of me than I did of him. God knew exactly what I needed in February 2002 when I took a random trip to the Murfreesboro Animal Shelter. Amongst all the yappers was an adorable, black 10-week old puppy incorrectly(and divinely)labeled a Newfoundland mix. Our eyes connected, and that was it.

I know there will be other dogs, and I love Laika and Pepper, but there will never be another Basil for me.