I miss you, Bobby.

I've had pets for all my life.

I grew up with a dog called Bobby, he was the third Bobby we had and the first I got to meet and grow up with.

He was a black labrador, I have vert few memories of him when I was a kid but I remember a lot from other years.

This dog loved my dad like you have no idea and my dad would die for his dog.
People say pets are the reflection of their owners... Bobby was literally my dad turned into a dog.

There was some point where they both had the exact same gray beard, I always teased my dad with that.

He wasn't just a dog, he was my parent's son, and me and my sister's brother.
We adored this dog for 12 years, we got him when I was like 5 or 6.

He was a very energetic dog, not the 'can't stay still' kind of dog, more like the kind of dog who will play with you anytime you want to. Mostly with my dad, obviously.

My dad used to play rough with him, he'd always bark and my dad would pretend to be mad.

Everytime my dad came back from work, my dog would jump like he wanted to hug my dad, he would CRY if my dad didn't pet him, he would snuggle agaisnt him to get his attention.

Man, that dog loved my dad more than I ever did.

I remember the times he got sick, my dad would spend all of his money buying medicine and taking him to the vet just to have him healthy, even when they thoughthe wouldn't make it, he always did.

When he got sick, shortly before he passed away, my dad came to check on him and yelled at me to cook something for Bobby jaja so I ended up giving him my breakfast.

There was a time he got lost, he would always find the way to scape home for whatever reason he had, but this time, he took too long to come back. He'd usually come back in 30 minutes but now there was no sign of him, for hours.
My dad panicked, he asked every neighboor, he went out to find him, he even printed a bunch of pictures of Bobby, it was night, he was worried and that was one of the rare times I saw my dad crying, crying over his dog.

Funny thing is that the mf came back like 10 minutes after and my dad yelled like crazy because he had expected the worse lol

The day before he died was terryfing to me. He was tired, really tired, my dad had tried everything to keep him alive, he bought a lot of medicine, he didn't care how much money he'd have to pay.

 But he was defeated, and that night I knew he was gonna die because when I went to check on him, I found him in the backyard, he literally made a hole and lied in there, I'm not joking, he was hiding from us and trembling because of the cold.

My heart dropped, I knew this was it, he was gonna die soon and he didn't want us to see him die.

We took him back to his doghouse that had pillows and blankets, and the next day we found him dead, right outside his house, like he knew this was it and he still tried to hide again.

The way we cried that morning. It wasn't pretty to wake up finding out our dog just died, even if I knew it was gonna happen.

My dad came and I never saw him cry so much. He moved his corpse, yelling him to move, to react, but of course he didn't. He stayed outside for a while, crying next to his dog, his best friend, his Bobby, his son.

My mom couldn't process his death, she called us while she was at work and asked if he trully died, even when she was the one who first found him.

I cried 2 or 3 days. The house was empty. He wasn't a loud dog, not anymore. He barely even did anything besides sleeping all the day, but at least everytime I walked outside, I saw him, and now I couldn't, because he was gone.

My dad didn't take long to call someone so we could say goodbye to him properly. He wasn't just the family's dog, he was part of our family like a son and a brother. We made an urn for him and now it's in our living room.

Everytime I see anything related to old dogs or a dog's death I can't help but cry and remember him.

I loved him, he lived with me for so many years, he watched me grow up and become a teenager and I watched him become an old man who allowed me to bother him and sometimes he'd play or ask me for pets, sometimes he'd follow me around. I never knew if it was because he wanted to play or because he wanted company.

It's been like a year and a half since he left and since then I got a cat, few months after he passed away. My dad doesn't like my cat, he always says "Bobby always and I hated cats" everytime I mention her.

I still miss him sometimes, even if my last memories are those of a dog who would drink his bath's water and dip his paws in his drinking water in summer, a dog that would get his head stuck in the fence because it wanted to scape just to fight a bunch of random dogs, a dog that never reacted when I played with his sagged face.

He was a brave, sassy and loving dog that never gave up even if he was about to lose his eye o his tail, I always loved him and he meant a lot to me and my family.

He deserves to be remembered.

I love you, Bobby.