All I wanted was to pretend it was all a nightmare, a terrible, horrendous nightmare. I wanted everything to go back to the way it used to be, but I knew that was not possible. I could feel my heart aching as it was breaking into pieces, while I sobbed until no sounds were coming out. I was surprised that I had not reached the point of crying myself dry, and frankly, I don’t think that it could be possible, because if it was, I would’ve stopped crying hours ago. Everything had become a blur, literally. My contacts would no longer stay in since my eyes had swollen to twice their size. I could not believe that in one day I could feel so much pain and agony. I had no idea how I could possibly get on with my life or even this day.

On August 11th, 2014, it seemed as if everything I had ever known was a lie. The happiness and comfort that I was reassured I would always feel was all gone. I had to do something that I still can’t decide if it was a good decision or not. I had to be the one to decide to put my dog down. My dog, Doda, may not seem so special to people, but all that mattered was the relationship I was lucky enough to share with her. She was my best friend, and before August 11th I would have never been able to imagine how I could live without her.
I got Doda when I was about six years old. My parents had just gotten divorced, and my mother and I were about to move into a townhouse. As a six year old, I had no idea what was happening. The last thing on my mind was that my parents would get divorced, but I was only six and there was nothing I could do about it. When my mother and I started our new lives, it was very difficult for me. I would sleep with her every night and cry in the mornings when I had to go to school. My mother knew that something was wrong because of how poorly I was adjusting to our new life. To help me get through this difficult time, she decided to get me a dog.

My mom, unknowingly, had suddenly changed my life dramatically. She not only bought me a puppy, but a best friend, a sister. Growing up as an only child, I had no one to play with. On vacations, I would have nothing to do, but now, with Doda, I had everything. My mother, working long hours, was never home. I would come home and it would be just me and Doda until 8 or 9 P.M. Doda was always there for me, cuddling with me when I cried, or jumping with me when I was happy. She was like my personal stuffed animal that I brought with me everywhere. We both grew up together and no matter what, she was the only one who I could count on to always be there for me. While everything else in my life was constantly changing, I knew that I could always depend on her.

One day, Doda and I went to the beach. Doda, being her crazy self, was running around with all the dogs, swimming in the lake, and rolling in the sand. It was like nothing would stop her from attacking the next dog that she saw. I thought that this day would go down in my top five days of my life, but as I was desperately trying to dry her off without getting myself wet, I noticed something. I noticed lumps under her legs and neck. I knew that this could only mean one thing, but I wouldn’t accept that fate. I thought, Doda’s only six years old, she’s energetic and happy, and there was no way that anything is wrong with her.

When I got home, I pointed out the lumps on Doda to my mother. She shrugged it off saying, “those have always been there, it’s not a big deal.” Knowing my mother is never wrong, I seemed more relieved, but I couldn’t let it go. I kept nagging my mother about how we need to take Doda to get her checked out at the vet, and finally she agreed. My mom went to the vet while I was at school, and I can honestly say that it was the longest day of school that I had ever experienced. It felt as if I was in a movie and someone kept pausing it. All I wanted was to go home and hopefully hear good news. However, I guess it just wasn't my lucky day. When I got home, my mom was crying, and she told me that Doda has a type of cancer called lymphoma.

At first I was thinking that it wasn’t such a big deal. I thought that I would still have a few years left with her, but I was hopelessly wrong. Within a month, Doda turned into a completely different dog. She couldn’t do all the things she used to do, like jump onto my bed; instead, I would have to lift her up. She would get out of breath extremely fast, and her energy was barely noticeable. Doda was a crazy, hyper dog, and in such a short amount of time she became unrecognizable. It hurt. Seeing her suffer so much hurt me more than any physical pain I’ve ever experienced. The doctors said that we would have to put her down when we thought the time would be right. Looking back on it, I feel selfish. I kept her alive even when she was suffering so much. I was hoping she would get through the weekend that we planned to go to the lake, and then my birthday, and I just kept procrastinating. So one day, four days after my birthday, I decided it was time. It was time to put her down and let her go in peace. Doda deserved the whole world. She deserved a beautiful life for the happiness she gave me, and I will never forgive myself for letting her go, but also for keeping her alive for as long as I did. I choose to think that putting her down was for her own good, and I hope someday I’ll be able to see her again and tell her how much she changed my life and how grateful I was to her.