I’m not editing the dried up leaves stuck in her curly tendrils. It reminds me how she loved to belly up and roll in the most disgusting smells. But it made her happy. If she was happy, I was happy. I never really understood what people meant by heart dog. It’s sad that it took losing mine to understand. Maeby was the type of dog that I could come home to from a terrible no good rotten day & everything would melt away. She would greet me at the door. Her tail would thump ecstatically. I could bury my face in her soft fur. Smell her comfort. She was my 55 lb lap dog who followed me everywhere. Who would stare deep into my eyes & tell me she loved me. That everything would be okay. Even when she wasn’t. Because we had each other. She was a fighter & a lover. I’ll never forget her sweet soul. My heart dog. .
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