I recently lost my best friend.

Trauma dump real quick. My family and I had gotten Buster December 24, 2014. 6 weeks after he was born and I remember being so happy when we got him. He was bought for my mom/as the family dog but I always claimed him as mine. He spent his nights with me and his most of his days with me during my teenage years. In the early years of my teenage life, I started suffering from medical conditions and became home bound most of my time, so spent the most time with Buster and more time with him than anybody else. He was always at my side and would be described by family as a 4-legged version of me. As I turned 18, I moved out the house and couldn’t take him with me. I’d visit home and spend most of my time with him. I’d sometimes visit home just to see him even if no one else was home. Then I ended up moving back home with my folks a few times and moving back out a few more. And he was still my best friend. Mid 2020, I ended up getting diagnosed with epilepsy. And from that point forward, any time I had a seizure, Buster was at my side until I recovered and back to my normal self. My family would end up getting more dogs, but Buster was always my favorite. I’d spoil him the most, slide him secret treats, get him special collars and dog tags, etc etc. no matter what, Buster was always there and was the constant in my life, along with my family, that could bring me happiness just by his presence. As time would go on, I’d begun taking these long vacations far away from home and having to leave my Buster bear behind with the folks. Buster was so conditioned to spend his nights with me in my room, when I was gone, he’d sit by my bedroom door waiting for me to let him in. He’d pace back and forth from my door to the garage door, waiting for me to come home, before eventually waiting on his wedge on our couch. All I’d have to do was ask him if he was ready for, “night night” and he’d start making his way to my door with me for bed. He’d wait for me to get out of bed in the middle of the night to take my side (which I never even allowed with partners) and I’d let him have it with no hesitation. He’d sleep with his head on a pillow while the rest of him was tucked under the covers.

This past Monday. I went into work for 9am. And at about 2pm I had noticed a couple missed calls from mom and a few text messages telling me to not work late because Buster was sick. I eventually got off work at 4:30 and called mom for her to tell me some of the most devastating news I could’ve heard…. Buster had had a stroke, which was followed by 2 seizures. After those seizures, he could still kind of walk, and he made his way to my bedroom door, and then walked to the other side of the house to the garage door looking for me. He did so a couple times before having another seizure while my mom was on the phone with me. And I’ve never felt more helpless than listening to my mom try to talk him through it, while I sat there crying and not being able to do anything. I got home at about 5 that day and walked in to Buster now having his 5th seizure. I didn’t even change out of my clothes and immediately held him. Refusing to let him go. Wanting him to know how much he mattered to me. Wanting to repay that favor he always did for me when I had my seizures. I stayed on the couch with him for a few hours before taking him outside for fresh air. This whole time, he’s having multiple seizures back to back. Unable to walk, drink or eat. I was taking a wet rag and rubbing it across his gums and nose for him to get water and stay hydrated. My mom and I then realized, he had gone blind from either the stroke or first few seizures. His eyes didn’t react to our hands or light. After spending most of the evening/night on the couch with him, Buster had begun his snoring. He’d stopped seizing. He was limp as could be but he was comfortable. I ended up relocating him to my room onto what we jokingly called, “the nice bed” because if it was to be his last night, I wanted him to be on the nice bed with his red blanket. I barely slept that night, wanting to be there if he needed. I promised him I’d be with him until the end since he was always there for me the past near 10 years. I’d gotten my Tuesday shift covered so I could spend as much time that I subconsciously knew was left at his side. I spent a few moments apologizing to him for having left so many times and wasting time with him. Feeling I never did enough for him and wasn’t doing enough for him in what would be his final moments either. Buster was a fighter, a guard dog, and my best friend. By ~1pm Tuesday afternoon, I had my hand on Buster’s side, and I felt his breathing finally stop. His heart kept beating. He gasped for air 2-4 times, before his heart finally stopped as well. My world fell apart in that moment. I’ve never felt weaker. All I have felt since then is brokenness. A piece of me is gone and cannot be replaced nor returned to what it once was. I’ve carried his dog tag with me every day since then. I’ve placed his collar on a stuffed Boston terrier animal I’d received for a past Valentine’s Day and named it “Lil’ Bobo” (Buster’s nickname being Bobo) and carried it all over the house with me. I talk to it like it’s him. And even tuck him in at bed like it’s him. It still doesn’t feel real. I’ve found myself all week still looking for him/expecting him to be there with his big eyes. His curiosity. His warmth. But all that’s been there is a bitter chill. I’d give everything and anything to be able to hold him one more time. To hear his snoring. To see him be such a little gentleman and cross his paws when laying down. Buster was born November 2, 2014. And Buster crossed the rainbow bridge October 8, 2024. I just wanted to share the happiness this little Boston Terrier brought me for a decade. And how he taught me I could love an animal so much and be loved back. To my best friend. Until we meet again Bobo.❤️💙