The first time I looked into his eyes, I remember my heart skipping a beat, my life changed for the better. He was in his kennel, jumping and barking as we walked up to him. He was the perfect golden shade, and almost twice the size of me, only being four.

We got him home, my mom very, very angry that daddy had gotten a dog, especially one that was bigger than she was! I chased him around the living room, the excitement evident on both of our faces. Right then, I knew he was going to be my best friend for years to come.

My fondest memories of all were Halloween and Christmas. During the fall we would run around the back yard, raking the leaves into a giant pile, only to run through them and do it all over again. During Christmas time, Lucky and I would go outside and play in the snow. He would eat it.. and quite frankly, so would I.

  As the years passed, our bond grew so much stronger. He not only was my companion, he was my best friend. He was there for me day and night. Sure, I had best friends at school, but not one person in the world could compare to him. He didn’t complain when I talked too often, which I tend to do often. He listened. When I was having a bad day, he knew. He would come up to me with those warm eyes that I knew loved me.

But also, as the years marched onward, we both grew in age. I was growing stronger and bigger. Lucky, unfortunately, was growing weaker, thinner, and quieter.

Lucky grew sick around April of 2013. Age nine for him, twelve for me. At first, it was just one of those “Oh, he’ll be fine. Change his food, put him on these meds, and give him some extra attention.”

Lucky would have good days and bad after that.. Until December of 2013, when he just couldn’t fight anymore. My mom and sister fought what they knew was coming. We all hoped for the best, trying everything to help him. But my dad and I both knew that our baby just couldn’t be helped.

One of the hardest things for me was seeing him struggle to get up. Seeing the look in his eyes that no longer was happy. When I called his name, I never saw that happy look again. He looked at me, and I knew he was saying “Sissy, please help me.”

We knew what we had to do. December 31st, 2013. My family woke up that morning knowing what was to come. I had been grieving for the past week. I went downstairs the night before, going to his kennel to talk to him. You may call me crazy, but until you have had a pet for nine years, you won’t know how it’s one of the hardest things to do. I went down and I felt the need to apologize. He came and he lay down next to me. He picked up his head, setting it on my lap. He looked at me and I remember having a long talk with him. Of course he just listened. I told him that I was sorry, that I was trying so hard to be strong. I told him I couldn’t have had a better dog.

Up until that point, I wasn’t planning on going. But laying in bed that night, I knew I had to go and be there for him. The way he was for me. I walked into that shelter with my family trying so hard to be strong. Lucky was having a pretty good day that day. They took him back and gave him his IV. He came back in, and they gave us some time with him alone. I remember my mom and me laying down next to him, him being really confused because we were both just heartbroken. I said goodbye to him, telling him thank you and that I loved him, and then I let go for the last time, and stepped back.

The woman came back in, and I stepped back, needing my space. She gave him the shot. I remember him looking back, and then looking forward again. He laid his head down, and closed his eyes for the last time. I stepped back and remember grabbing onto the counter behind me. I started screaming “Daddy, I can’t do this anymore.” My dad carried me out of the shelter, not looking back until my mom came out. I left that day, leaving a piece of me behind. I had a smile on my face though, because I remembered one thing. Lucky looked happy again, for the first time in such a long time.