by Kaitlin
(Missouri)
We got him when I was about one year old, when I thought he would live forever. We grew up together, we played together, did everything together. We even sat in his cage together sometimes (even though my mother repeatedly told me not to).
As I grew up, I realized you were getting older too, and that you wouldn't be able to live with me forever. Soon the vets were saying you would die soon, saying most boxers died around the age of nine. You proved them wrong. You lived a wonderful 13 years, then you were barely able to walk, so every day I would carry your food to you and hand-feed you.
One night, around 1 a.m., my mother woke me up and said you were whining and she was going to take you to the vet and that I should say goodbye in case you never came back. I cried all that night, until my mom came home... without you.
That was six months ago. I still think about you, every second of every day. Sometimes I still walk home and expect you to be there, running to me like you used to be able to do. But all I see is the empty spot where you used to lay. I love you, baby.
Ranger, you were the best friend I could ever ask for. Someday I hope to see you again in a land where we can run and play together forever. <3