Toby was just a dog to the man who pointed and shot his Sig Sauer service firearm countless times into Toby’s 48-pound body-just a dog, a mangy mutt that deserved to be put down by a 40-caliber bullet to his brain. To this man dogs cannot think or feel; they are simply inanimate objects that have no right to a judge or jury. To this man animals are lesser, lesser than a mammal that has opposable thumbs and can cavalierly wield and discharge a 40-caliber semi-automatic gun over the heads of his small children.

To me Toby was more than just a dog, more than the sum total of his fuzzy ears, striped tummy and doggy breath. He was my anchor in a rocky world. No matter how awful my day was, Toby was always able to bring a smile to my face when he did his four-footed dance of joy at my arrival home. There was nothing like the unfettered joy inherent in Toby’s happiness. Dogs thoughts aren’t cluttered with the remnants of a bad day and they aren’t dragged down worrying about bills to pay or errands to run. They won’t be angry at you for showing up late for their walk, they will just be happy that you are there. When dogs are happy, they are simply that-happy.

Sometimes when you love someone so completely it’s hard to tell where your heart ends and their body begins. They are woven so completely into the very fabric of your being, so deeply that even the slightest harm to them makes you feel like a hundred knives are tearing at the delicate tissues of your heart. You take for granted that they will always be there until the day they are ripped away. When I heard what had happened to Toby my heart stopped, obliterated by the words ringing in my ears. Up until that point in time I had never experienced a great loss, much less a loss by violent, horrific means. To know that your loved one was frightened and scared in the moment of their death, to know that your loved one struggled to get up even as the last bullet was fired is to face the incomprehensible.

You might say these are irrational feelings to have for just a dog? Perhaps. But then I would say you have never known the love of a dog. This “officer” took the life of my Toby, who was much more than just a dog. He was the part of myself that was sacrosanct, inviolate-he was a large part of my happiness because he gave so freely of his own. So now I struggle with the demons of depression that I have wrestled with most of my life. Each night the sleeping pills I’ve been prescribed turn to ashes in my mouth and I’m left staring at the ceiling as I learn how to mourn the loss of my dog.

This submission has been viewed 5161 times.