This one was tough. He was my best friend in the whole world and I held his head as the life escaped from his eyes. He was the only one that knew me. The only one who truly saw me. The only one who offered me the type of love I craved.
Max was short. White. Furry. And full of love.
He was a husky little white Corgi and the very best friend a sad girl could ask for.
At this point in my life I was a heavy lush, and used alcohol to feel. I would get piss drunk and cry for hours on end. Except this time, when I cried on my bedroom floor, I didn't have any company.
I was incredibly lonely and didn't relate to anyone in my life. In fact, I chose not to. But that little dog was my biggest savior. One look into those big brown eyes and I knew I had someone that understood exactly what I needed.
But the last time I saw those brown eyes, they were lifeless. With absolutely no personality left in them. I saw my best friend fly upward through those coffee-colored windows and that was all that I saw when I closed my eyes. I couldn't come to grips with the fact that he was gone.
Every time I was sad, he was there. And that was more often than not. But he was also there to greet me walking in the door, wagging his tail and expressing this pure, infectious happiness. He always sat in the hallway between my sister's room and mine, watching over us while we slept. He had such a strong spirit, and his love was unconditional.
When I found out that the lump in his throat was cancerous, I lost it. His descent downhill happened pretty quickly there after. He wasn't able to walk, and I had to carry his fat little body outside so he could sit in the grass. He loved it outside.
He clearly didn't have quality of life anymore, so when we, as a family, made the decision to put him down, I knew it was the right thing to do. I couldn't bear the thought of not having him around, but having him live in pain for my own benefit was not something I would ever put him through.
So, I held his head in that veterinarian office, and that was quite honestly the most heartbroken I had ever been.
At this point in time, I realized that there was nothing left for me in the city of Los Angeles. I had made plans to move to NYC already, but this reaffirmed why I needed to go. In fact, I knew I'd be even more heartbroken if he passed while I was 3,000 miles away.
So I slugged back all of the liquor I could to try to make everything OK. I white knuckled the last months of my staying in LA. And somehow knew, that New York would change everything for me.
And it did.