It happened when I was 9. I can’t remember what month; maybe April or May. I guess the date isn’t important. But for some reason, I can remember the exact day the horrible news was given to me, the exact emotions I went through, and the exact sickening fear that he wasn’t going to come home. That Friday I knew he was going to come home. He just had too, right?

The moment I stepped off the bus, I sprinted all the way home, not stopping to breathe, not stopping to think. As soon as I busted through the door, I screamed, “Teak!” Nothing; nothing but the sound of my heart beating so fast it wanted to pop out of my chest. I ran upstairs to my room, “Teak, where are you?” Nothing; nothing but the pounding of my heart and the buckling of my knees. I felt so weak, nearly about to fell down the stairs trying to get to his kennel. The minute I looked in, I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. Everything seemed to disappear. There was nothing but his kennel, containing his bed and hot air, and I.

Reality swarmed back to me when a warm hand gently rested on my shoulder. “Mom, is he coming home?” I said, choking on every single word. She didn’t have to say yes or no. The tears that swelled up in her eyes were enough of an answer. My little yokie, just 5 years old, still so young, wasn’t ever coming home.

I was upset, devastated, and all alone. I was upset at the veterinarian clinic for not doing more to save him. I was upset at my parents for keeping me in school when I lost something so close to my heart. And I was extremely upset at God for not answering my prayers. I was devastated for my extreme loss; and I was all alone because I couldn’t hold the one thing that always made me feel better. Losing him was equivalent to losing one of my parents.

They told me that he died for kidney failure and me being only 9 years old, I couldn’t comprehend what that meant. All I did was nod my head and cry. School was difficult for me after he died. I couldn’t concentrate. It was as if I was the living dead. I ate in the counselor’s office for the rest of the year, my teachers were sympathetic.

It took me forever to forgive everyone. I always blamed my parents for not taking him to the vet sooner, although my parents were the first people I forgave. A month after his death, I started asking questions. “How did he have to go? What gave him the disease?” My parents said that God decided it was his time to go to Heaven. They also said that they didn’t know what caused it; something could have got in his water that his body didn’t like. Them they showed me something that they found in his kennel. It was a little clay car that I made in class. Teak must have thought it was a chew toy. I then knew that it was my entire fault that he died. And I started blaming myself for this death. I analyzed ever possibility and it all ended the same, my fault. So I stopped blaming the vets for not doing there best to save him. But I still didn’t forgive God. He still didn’t answer my prayers, and even at age 9 I didn’t know that the little clay car would harm Teak, God knew everything. It took me an extreme amount of time to forgive God; it took years. But I just had to remember that God made a lot of good memorize for me of Teak, and that Teak is now in a better place.
I never once told a soul of my dirty little secret; and never again do I want to feel that pain, the pain of losing something so very dear to my heart and the guilt I went through knowing that his unforsakin death that was entirely my fault. The anticipation I went through to see if Teak would come back home to me or not. That Friday I knew he was going to come home. He just had too, right? Wrong…