Why Dogs Are Important Essay

"They say death is hardest on the living. It’s tough to actually say goodbye. Sometimes it’s impossible. You never really stop feeling that loss. It’s what makes things so bittersweet. We leave little bits of ourselves behind, little reminders, a lifetime of memories, photos, trinkets, things to remember us by… even when we’re gone." —Dr. Meredith Grey (Grey’s Anatomy).

Monday, December 10, 2007—a day I dread the anniversary of each year. I remember it as clearly as if I were still in my fifth grade body, getting home from dance lessons and preparing to leave for basketball practice at 7 o’clock. Even though my mom had warned me about it several weeks in advance and the appointment was set, I was still in denial about the whole situation.

I guess when someone loves you day in and day out your entire life, you don’t easily forget when she leaves you for eternity, feeling alone and empty in this despicable world. Penny, my precious golden retriever, was finally ready to pass away, and I was anything but ready to take on the world without her.

I’ve always heard that dog is “man’s best friend,” and it’s not really surprising why.

You can always count on people, even dear friends, to hurt you in the worst possible ways, keeping you down until you’ve suffered enough. However, dogs are the exact opposite—greeting you at the front door, jumping around like a bull in a china shop as they await dinner, displaying astonishing loyalty every day, and showing unremitting love when you least deserve it. Nobody lives up to these standards, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to let Penny go. Even though it would get easier with time, a part of my heart would remain eternally empty once she was gone, no human able to fill the

void.

I wonder why it was so unbearable for me to accept her death, and why I would let myself get attached to her knowing she couldn’t live forever. What’s the point of loving something just so death can take it away from you? Was all the love she gave me really worth the loss I endured from her death? Were those few years of fun worth the rest of my life without her? Was any of it worth it?

I suppose I could ask the last question about anything—my middle school boyfriends, the Starbucks I buy each morning, the rigorous AP courses I take.

All of these decisions have consequences I’ve been forced to handle, yet for reasons I don’t understand, I continue making the same decisions with the same idiotic consequences. But why? Why would any logical human being choose the consequences, choose to be hurt? It doesn’t make sense to undergo so much agony for a minuscule amount of joy. Yet for incomprehensible reasons, I, along with the entire human population, am constantly guilty of finding ways to make myself suffer.

In order to attain comfort, you find people to love and decide to go through everything with them. When they cry tears of joy, so do you. When they finish school, you’re at graduation to celebrate with them. When they grieve, you grieve right along with them. Each of us does it, picking whose adventures we want to go on, who we want to have movie marathons with, who we want to spill our secrets to, who we want around until the very end. And once it’s all over, we do everything we possibly can to make sure those people are never

forgotten.

Maybe that’s why we suffer so much. We never want to forget those who have molded us into the people we are today, and we feel the need to honor those who have shown us boundless love. I knew Penny for 10 years. During that time, she became family to me, and we created numerous memories to share with the world. After her death, I made a scrapbook filled with our stories, trying in some way to honor her, I suppose. She didn’t leave me with much, but I clung to everything that I could find attempting to keep one of my most beloved creatures alive as long as possible.