Otis Smalls

I know I am not the only person on the planet to ever lose their dog. Since this past august, I have been working very hard on the way I deal with tragedy, despair, and generally bad situations. The last time a girl broke something off with me, I generally acted like I was the only person in the history of all relationships to have something like that happen; these things happen every day, though. I don’t want to go off on a tangent about how no one understands how it feels, because I know people know how terrible it feels to have a pet die an untimely death. Everyone deals with tragedy and despair and situations that feel like your heart is literally breaking in two. That last sentence is essentially the definition of “being alive.”

But I punched a wall today. The last time I have punched a wall was in May when my bands van got broken into. This is a very stupid thing to do, I agree, but, for the longest time, in a situation such as this (or the aforementioned burglary of our van), Punching something was the only way to make me feel something other than whatever exploding emotion I was feeling at the time. My old bedroom had three separate holes from where I had put my fist through the drywall. But aside from the previously mentioned May situation, I havent done anything like this; for about the past 4 years, my knuckles have remained relatively bruise free.

Otis Smalls was my new way of dealing with the hardships of life. I am not kidding when I say that I do not think I have loved anything on this earth as much as I loved that dog. Because Otis loved me, I know he did. He always knew when something was wrong, and was always there to tumble on the floor with me, or just lick my face when I had a rough day. When a girl situation would arise, I would just lay on the couch next to my little buddy. He was always there for me. I know some people just don’t get the connection other have with their dogs, and, I guess they never will. Because I would have seriously sacrificed a toe on each foot and my right pinky finger for all of Otis’ health troubles to go away. He was the constant companionship that every person looks for in life; there was never a time when Otis wasn’t excited to see me or my mom or my dad and just thrilled to be alive. Every day that he was awake he acted like it was the best day of his life, which was something I envied. Seeing his tongue fall out of his mouth with that goofy smile he had as he played tug-of-war or sat in the front seat of the car going for a ride was all the escape I needed from everything wretched in this wretched world.

But now he is gone and I am left punching walls.


03/2004 - 02/01/2008

So long, my Little Guy.