( CW ) Your autobiography is feeling a little thin . Tell me one truth and one lie about yourself , but do so in a single continuous story . Do n't tell me which is which .

After fifteen years, you start to worry about *that* time for your dogs. They're not frolicking like they used to, though they certainly try. They sleep most of the time, and when they are up, it's never for long. You begin to wonder - and dread - what it will be like when they're gone. When you're a child growing up with furry companions at your side, you tend to just accept that they'll always be there, like they always have, unconditionally happy and smothering you with love and affection. 
 
 I never could have known how much I would miss them. 
 
 Our oldest, our girl, passed in March. I was working that day, and my parents did n't tell me that they were planning on putting her to sleep. The day before, I had been at home. The next two days I would have been at home. I have n't forgiven them for this. My father and I buried her in our backyard. I did n't see her, but I gave her one last petting through the blanket we wrapped her in. The clouds were heavy, but did not release their torrent until after we had finished and said our good-byes, almost like she asked someone to hold the rains for just a little while. 
 
 Our remaining dog, the boy, had never known a life without his partner, and he never stopped grieving for her. Sure, he tried to reassure us and enjoy was love and attention we gave him, but his heart was broken, and such a wound takes its toll. He passed on a cold November night. I had gone out with friends, unaware of the crisis taking place just moments after I departed. Again, I was not told. No phonecall, no text, nothing, even after I asked my parents not to repeat what they had done in keeping me away from the'trauma'. I woke up the next morning when I heard someone get in the car and drive away. I went downstairs as I always did and knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. 
 
 Everything was gone. The pillows, the toys, the water and food bowl, just gone. I knew what had happened, but I could n't believe it. Neither of my parents were there, so I called them. I demanded to know what they had done, why they had taken my boy, my poor boy away from me without even letting me say good-bye. I did n't stop crying for days, and I will never - ever - forgive them for this. We did n't have room in our yard to bury him next to his girl, so I did n't even get to have my closure like I had with her. 
 
 Now there's just this hole in my chest that gets bigger every time I notice the small things that are just missing. 
 
 We've considered getting another dog, but my mother refuses, arguing that she would be the only one to take care of it, which is not true. The relationship we had with each other has frayed horribly since then and I am almost entirely moved out, wanting nothing more to do with them. I've taken a chance and moved in with my boyfriend, though we've barely been together a year. He adores animals as much as I do and we have already spoken about adopting a dog. I doubt it will heal the void in my heart, but I hope that by giving my love to an equally loving creature, that my heart will grow, and the wound will thus seem far smaller. 
 
 In loving memory: Derby and Bienchen RIP 2014
