My First Best Friend

My first best friend. My Aunt and Uncle's dog, PJ.

Inspired from a song, [it has subtitles] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etw3aSumBEU here. It made me cry.

Wish you well, PJ. He passed in August of 2003, 17 years old.

TIME FOR NOSTALGIC SPEECH.
I would follow him around as a toddler, and he was like a person within himself, with his own unique personality. It was as if he understood orders, and knew that when my uncle told him "Don't let her follow you into the woods." That was what it meant. Even when I was the one disobeying and running off into the woods on my own, he followed me to make sure I was fine, and wined when I fell as if to say "See? You might get hurt. This is a bad idea." ...A three year old me didn't understand.

It was funny, though. He never growled or tried to bite, and I would always cuddle with him on his bean-bag bed thing, reading my huge Disney books. And although he probably shouldn't eat it, he would eat cornflakes with his own bowl, and he had to have sugar. If he didn't get sugar, he literally sat there, stared at you and stuck out his tongue. It was awesome. He also loved bologna.

I was around 8 or so when he passed away, and he was old and suffering. He had cataracts and limped when he walked. He had to be carried most of the time, and whimpered frequently. I was young and just understood that he was old and... old things were upset a lot. He got bitter at times, only if you did something painful to him like pull his tail but my parents made sure my baby brother steered clear.
It was one of those rare crisp August afternoons, a Sunday, I remember because my grandmother was at church. My Dad and My uncle got a nice blanket, the one he always had, and covered him up. We all put on our coats and went outside, standing around him. I don't know if they gave him anything to put him down or anything since I was so little. Anyways, he waited it out and we all stayed near and petted him. Whispered endearments and made sure he heard the nature around him as he waited it out.
My grandmother returned from church, and he was like the extra son to her. She hobbled over, put a wrinkled old hand on his head and told him that it was okay if he left us. He gave a whimper and she kissed his head then went inside. My uncle covered his head, put a hand on him to let him know we didn't leave him, told him we loved him, and then... that was it.

His favorite place on our property in old forge was the large, back hill that looked upon the whole property, there wasn't a thing you couldn't see from up there. We carried him up, wrapped him snugly, set him in and as we buried him said a prayer.

We bought a cross with fake flours [to ensure that it'll stay within the harsh winters and other weather] and nailed it to the tree.
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He was a one of a kind dog, and I'll never forget him. My favorite dog, regardless of what I might say, is and always will be a beagle.

I sort of regret put all this down now because i'm crying ;;
I'm sorry, I'm so sentimental and emotional. I have nostalgia issues.

In Memorium of my PJ. A crisp August Sunday afternoon, 2003.