I lost my beautiful Eskimo puppies. They were only three months old. God, I’m so broken. Today, I know how it feels to be in the denial stage of grief. I woke up and expected to see them by my side. I was really scared of puppies before we had them. I never knew I could get fond of them this much. Their presence gave me a hint of how I’d treat my own future children. I loved them equally; I didn’t treat one better than the other. They also preferred being around me. I’m really hurt. I thought people who lost their pets were a bit dramatic about their loss.
Now, I know better. I keep thinking about the pain they went through before they gave up (F*** PARVO), and despite knowing how genuinely I cared for them, I still feel very guilty. I broke my savings to make sure they were fine. I wish I did better, even though I do not know what exactly I should have done better because I tried my best. Every time I got back from work, I forgot to eat until the following day. I didn’t sleep until they did. I miss my babies, and I hope they’re safe wherever they are.
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