Yesterday, I went to take my dog out for his morning walk. We went to all his favorite parks. He was only 1 and a half years old and was still immature and innocent. As i came back from the walk and got into the main door of the apartment I took of his lead. At that very same moment someone opened the door and he ran out. I ran after him and watched him cross the big street to play with another dog. I thought I had just avoided death. I began to cross the street whilst my dog perched on the side walk waiting for me. As i crossed I heard the sound of a popped tire and heard my dog whimpering and limping. I was shocked. I thought my dog had hurt his leg but I ran over and saw that it had been a lot worse. I held him and watched him die in my hands. I called my mom immediately - crying - and told her the news. She rushed out of the house expecting him to be hurt, but not dead. We both sat on the street crying until we decided to bring him home.
For us this dog was not a pet, nor a friend, but our child. My mom had found him after after suffering from depression. She had gone to Greece alone to stay with her deteriorating mother. With in 3 months her mother had died and the depression began. In the midst of her depression she saw a small one, colored, dark brown chihuahua who was she said "looked like a little bean". She bought him the very same day and decided to give him the name "coffee bean".
"Beanbo", "Bean Bean", "Coff-Coff" and "boubi" (his most loved nickname) had become her light in the dark world of solitude and grief. She would need to take him out for walks and began to make friends and enjoy herself. That dog, had become her child, her best friend and every moment of her day would be spent in his company.
In 6 months I had come to visit for the summer (at first). From the first time I laid eyes on him I loved him. He was naughty yet sweet, excited yet loving and soon, I to had come to him as my son. I knew his every moved. I remember the way he would put one ear down and keep one up when he was thinking, the way he would put both ears back when he had done something wrong, the way he would nip and my socks whilst I walk, the way he began barking every time I put on my coat because he knew he was going for a walk. He became my bother, my son and most of all my best friend. Due to family circumstances it was deemed best to stay for another 4 months until my dad settled in a new area. It was in this time that I had to love him so.
He was a sweet and pure soul. He would walk from bedroom to bedroom to lick us, so none of us felt lonely. He was the most loving and beloved creature to ever set foot in the house. To see this tragedy happen to such a living and loving animal was devastating. The guilt I feel tears through me every night, even now writing this post, he should have his paws up on the chair waiting for a hug. I feel as though I ended his life and i miss him so. If i had kept the lead on for 3 minutes he would be here next to me. I woke up today and i see no reason to go outside, I feel like a murderer. I should never have taken of his lead. What is worse is that fact that after I leave soon on January 20Th to stay with my dad and brother, I will be leaving my mother alone again. How could I be such a terrible person? I've had other dogs die in my life, but never have I felt as though I was their cause of death. Whenever I close my eyes I see this incident. I have never loved another dog the way I loved him, he was 'unique'.