If Moose dies, this’ll be the second of my dad’s dogs to die from cancer.

I remember exactly where I was when I heard about the first dog dying.
I remember how I hung up the phone and started sobbing in the middle of the parking lot. It was one of the few times my mom comforted me while I cried.

Don’t tell me it’s just an animal. Just a dog.

Of course I’m destroyed at the thought that I’ll never be able to return to my dad’s house and have that giant dog go out of its way to sleep in my bed at night so that it could protect me.
Of course I’m destroyed at the thought that I’ll never have moose guide me on the trails, always looking back to make sure I’m still there.

It’s always sad when some happiness leaves the world.