At work I realized that my hands are very beat up and dry. They’re never really smooth and soft unless I try, so I lose that Asian stereotype, but that just means that I’m a hard worker right? I’m proud of that, and my firm grip/handshake.
The reality is sinking in that I won’t have Baxter anymore. He’s not dying, but he’ll be moving in with Israel. I won’t have him wake me up in the morning anymore. I won’t have him nudging at me to take him outside. I won’t have him greeting me when I get home. I won’t have him bringing me toys to play with. I wont have him to hug when I’m sad or stressed. I won’t have him rolling around or jumping on my bed. I won’t have him giving puppy eyes when someone is eating. I won’t have him licking my face to tell me everything is going to be okay. I won’t have Baxter anymore.
It hurts, but it’s for the best. When the time comes I most likely won’t write a blog about it, it’ll be sad. I have the option to visit him, but it’s like I’m losing a part of myself, so I’d rather have it be a clean cut and let them live their lives without me. I’ll always remember him, until the day I die, I’ll always remember the first goofy, intelligent, and fun dog I ever had. I don’t know when I’ll adopt another dog, if ever, but nothing will replace Baxter.
I love you Baxter. Thanks for helping my family grow closer, thanks for being there when I was alone, thanks for helping me control my anxiety and depression, thanks for showing me that everything will eventually be alright, thanks for showing me love.
The first night I got you, you were licking my tears, and I bet the last day I have you – you’ll be doing the same thing. Goodbye Baxter, thank you for existing. I’ll miss you.
That was depressing. Here’s a selfie.