Bruno

Bruno was my dog. Not the family’s. Not mum’s. Mine. We got him when I was ten. Big golden lab, all ears and paws and energy. I picked him from the litter because he chewed my shoelace. He followed me everywhere. Waited by the door when I went to school. Sat by the bathroom when I was sick. He even jumped in the pond that one time when I fell in, like he was gonna save me. We did everything together. Went to the park. Played footie. Shared crisps (well, I shared,he mostly stole). When I got older and got a bit moody, you know, like you do, he still wagged his tail every time I walked in. No judgement. Just happy to see me. I knew he was getting old. His walks got shorter. He needed help getting up the stairs. Last week he just lay down and didn’t get up again. He looked at me like, “It’s alright now, mate.” So we sat together for ages. I told him he was my best mate. Bruno, you were the best. Love you forever and ever.