[ WP ] You were adopted some years back and have begun to slowly realize that you 're a dog .

I ’ ve been with her as long as I can remember. There ’ s a vague notion of others before her, but they don ’ t matter. She means the world to me, and I to her. She tells me I ’ m her “ favorite boy, ” and such a “ handsome gentleman, ” and I swell with pride. *I love you, * I tell her. 
 
 I wasn ’ t able to work. I can ’ t remember if I had a job before, but she made enough to feed us both and did so happily. Whenever she came home, I ’ d eagerly greet her and listen about her day; comfort her if she seemed sad or her day seemed rough. I ’ d never interrupt, just let her speak and idly play with my hair. I loved that, found it so soothing. In turn, I would protect her. She didn ’ t need to ask, I could tell if she was anxious or frightened. Sometimes, when she got food delivered, I ’ d stand behind her and stare at the delivery kid, just in case he got any funny ideas about my girl. 
 
 I ’ d also perform a sort of inspection of any friends she ’ d bring over. She trusts them, so I ’ d trust them… I just verify. I heard that phrase somewhere before and always liked it. Anyway, her friends were a little odd. She ’ d tell me to give them one of my standard greetings – “ pound it ” meant she wanted me to bump fists. Her friends tended to delight in this one. One tall dude immediately gave me a hug and said, “ Can we be best friends?! ” I looked at her; she raised an eyebrow and shrugged. I looked back at that guy and snorted as if to say, *You wish, * then joined my girl at her side. 
 
 We used to take nightly walks around the lake. This was very exciting for me but I tried to restrain myself for her. She ’ s not as fast as me, so I have to remember to slow my pace. But I can ’ t help it sometimes. I have a very sensitive nose, the world is full of such amazing smells and she barely notices them. I mean, it ’ s fine that she can ’ t, I just wish she could experience this with me. I look back at her at try to convey what I ’ ve learned from every tree, every shrub, every blade of grass. She doesn ’ t get it, but she smiles lovingly, and that is all I need. 
 
 When I started getting sick, she took me to the doctor. A lot. I didn ’ t understand a lot of what was discussed, but she was always there, always offering a hand to hold. When we got home, we ’ d sit on the couch quietly, and she would speak in soft, comforting tones. I ’ d lay my head in her lap and she ’ d gently run her fingers through my hair. Sometimes, I ’ d lie on my back and let her rub my belly. I know it ’ s weird, but I like it. It triggers something in me and my leg spasms. It ’ s not painful or anything and it makes her laugh – my favorite sound in the entire universe. 
 
 Then one day, my legs started giving out on me. It was a little frustrating, to not know if you were going to be able to stand or not. I was coughing and sneezing more and more. I started losing my appetite, but was always thirsty. My sight was going all… funny. I was always tired. Part of me wanted to just go to sleep forever, but I couldn ’ t leave her. 
 
 She called the doctor, went over my symptoms. I watched her face crumple. Watched her eyes well with tears before she stood to leave the room, to go outside. I tried to get up and follow, but she said, both gently and firmly, “ No, you stay. ” 
 
 I was worried but waited where she told me to. She always came back, of course, but I still hate when she goes. I hated that she was alone. Did I somehow wrong her? Make her cry? I hoped this wasn ’ t the case. That was the worst offense in the world. 
 
 The door opened and she appeared. She was sobbing now. *What did I do? * She threw her arms around me and wept into my shoulder. “ My sweet boy, my favorite boy. ” She repeated the phrase, again and again. I rested an arm on hers and nestled her. She kissed the top of my head, wiped away her tears. I locked eyes with her, waiting patiently. She told me, “ We have one week and I ’ m going to make sure it ’ s the happiest of your life. ” 
 
 I couldn ’ t really imagine anything better than being with her, but I accepted her offer. I ’ m not really sure what she meant by a *week*, or what *one left* was, but if it would make her happy, it ’ s what I ’ d do. 
 
 She wasn ’ t wrong. One night, she made me this thing she called *bacon. * I ’ d never had that before. I perked right up like I was young again. *Bacon?! Why aren ’ t we eating this every day?! * She laughed through tears at me reaction. She also took me to our lake. *We haven ’ t been here in ages! * I thought she ’ d forgotten about our spot. She let me smell everything as long as I wanted. I started to get tired, though, my hips and back started to ache. I longed to keep going, but she was understanding and just helped me back to the car. We also tried to paint together. I should stress tried – I ended up getting paint prints all over her apartment. She was laughing the whole time, took me to rinse my feet and her hands. While scrubbing my prints off the floor, she began to cry again. I bowed my head apologetically, resting at her side. “ It ’ s not your fault, ” she said through the tears. *Then who ’ s fault is it? * I asked, but she didn ’ t respond. Every night, we would curl up together on the couch and it was pure bliss. 
 
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 She shows me our painting this morning. I guess it ’ s just my eyes going bad, but our prints don ’ t look the same. I can ’ t quite figure out why. They ’ re just different. Funny how I never noticed before. 
 “ Come on, my sweet boy, it ’ s time, ” she calls. Her voice is shaky. I am so tired, so she comes to me instead and takes me to the car. I watch and smell the world go by, and it ’ s such a beautiful blur. 
 
 She walks with me, and I recognize we are at the doctor ’ s. She has to fill out a form, and suddenly breaks down. She ’ s crying hard now. I try to comfort her, and she just holds me. I look at one of the nurses, she seems to know what ’ s going on and lets us go into a side room. 
 
 We are sitting on the cold floor, the two of us. I never noticed before, but this was abnormal. Usually she is perched on something off the floor. A chair, a stool, the sofa, the bed. But today she is on the floor with me. The tears won ’ t stop. *What can I do to make it better? * They still don ’ t stop. She reaches for me, so I sit with her. 
 
 The doctor comes in, but I choose to ignore him. He doesn ’ t matter. My pain doesn ’ t matter. Only she matters. She tries to compose herself. Wipes away her tears. She ’ s picking me up now. She ’ s so strong. She lays me on the table. The doctor shaves away some hair on my upper limb. I never notices before, how hairy I am compared to her. She ’ s so smooth. She ’ s holding my head now, her face pressed against mine. She repeats, “ You ’ re such a good boy. You ’ re my nice, strong boy. I love you. ” I ’ m a little scared, if I ’ m honest. And suddenly… I can ’ t feel the pain anymore. I can still smell her, faintly hear her. She ’ s still telling me she loves me. Suddenly it doesn ’ t matter than I haven ’ t been able to breathe very well, I feel nothing beyond my love for her. I try to lick her face, but I can ’ t. *I love you too, * I try to tell her, but I can ’ t. She means the world to me, and I to her. I just wish I could tell her-
