He grew into a giant of a dog. At three years old he weighed well over a hundred pounds and his shoulders stood almost as high as my waist. Despite being partially lame in his front left leg due to some nerve damage from a vaccination, he was unbelievably strong and quick.
He loved people, attention, and riding in the car. He loved the other animals and once even helped a rescue another dog that was trapped in a pen once (In his mind I know he thought it was for the best). He became instant pals with everyone he met. There wasn't an ounce of meanness in him.
Monday, though, I got a call. Spot had been shot. Spot was dying.
What? Who? Why?
None of that mattered. We all knew Spot wasn't long for this world.
Some miserable soulless minion of evil shot Spot through the gut with what could have only been a round from a hunting rifle. Yet, despite being mortally wounded - despite losing so much blood - he made his way back to the only home he had ever known. I'm convinced he knew his time was over. He kept his eyes on my mom the whole time - as if maybe he was worried about her, or maybe hoping she could somehow fix his horrible wound. He died there in the arms of those that loved him.
It was truly a senseless act that has affected all of our lives - none more than my son Samuel's. Samuel was Spot's boy. They were brothers. They loved each other with no conditions. Hours were spent running, wrestling, playing hide and seek and just lying together to rest. How is a boy that's only thirteen to begin to forgive someone for taking the life of a best friend? Did the shooter realize, or even care, that a brave child would be the one to cover Spot's eyes when Animal Control administered the injections to release Spot from his agony caused by such a cowardly action? Only time will tell how this horrific event will change my son.
How am I supposed to guide my son when the very core of my soul is enraged? It's all I can do to channel my emotion to remembering Spot's contribution to our lives. He was just a big old goofy dog. He wasn't a lick smart, but he was one of us. I also realize that no amount of retribution will bring him back to us, but I'm still angry enough to admit that I'd immediately return the action to the contemptible miscreant that took Spot's life so ruthlessly if I thought for a second that it would return Spot to us unharmed.
We're heartbroken.
---A letter to Spot---
Dearest Spot,
I know you're happy. I can only imagine how strong and fast you are now with your leg all fixed up. Oh, I'm also sure you've found Kat and Nibbles. Tell them they're thought of often.
We all miss you.
Your little buddy Wally-Dog won't know what to do without you taking him on hikes through the woods. Molly and Callie (those silly cats) are going to miss you being around. Dad probably won't get much rest for a while, because you won't be there beside him, and Mom will miss your company during the day. Tina will certainly miss you poking your big head in the car when she was coming or going. Samuel is missing you quite a bit - I think it will be a long while before his heart heals.
Please try not to worry about us, and most of all, don't feel guilty. I know you were probably thinking you messed up, but this wasn't something that you had any control over. We all know how frightened you were of guns, and would have run at the very sight of one. So it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. You were just playing in the woods.
We still love you. We won't forget you, and soon our thoughts of you will be of all the good times we had.
Oh, and Spot, next time I see you I promise that we'll take a much needed nap. Yes, with you on my lap; I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love Always,
Jim
