Buffy.

Animals are often called friends. And there is times when you really feel like thay are acting very human like. It has happened to me at least. And when I remember that one time, that one look, and that one tear, it makes my heart ache. Everytime.
It was in December, last December, to be exact. It was a day like any other, I was counting down the days 'till Christmas, it was the 21st, four days. I went downstairs to get something to eat, and found that my aunts and grandmother had come over to the house, my parents where drinking coffee along with them. I said good morning, and then looked out the back door. There she was, looking at me with those piercing black eyes. My best friend, Buffy. She looked at me, and I gave in, I let her into the house.
- Just stay here 'kay? 'Cause dad's gonna get all upset if you get into the kitchen. - And I gave her a pat on the her head. She looked kind of upset, but then again, maybe she was tired or something.
Last night she had been acting kind of weird. She had come to me, while I was helping dad put up a canopy in the backyard. She layed in one of the pieces of the canopy, and I had shooed her away. I went upstairs. Then came back down to find her laying in the living room with my family. She was still looking upset. My black labrador hadn't been very optimistic, she was of course a very happy punk as a puppy, but she was eight years old now, and she wasn't as yappy. Except that, when she was happy, she would wag her tail very hard. She sometimes would hit you with it, and it acutally hurt. It felt like wipping. She would usually start wagging her just by calling her name. But as i talked to her, she moved her tail slightly side to side, and the looked up at me.
- Aww, what's wrong Buf? You're never like this. -
And I went upstairs once again, my sister was in the computer, and my parents called us from downstairs to say that they were going to my aunt's house. I said fine, and went uptstairs again. After a while, I was doing my hair and laughing, when suddenly I heard my smaller sister Ana crying, and coming up stairs, I frowned at my sister Andrea, and we both looked back to see Ana crying her eyes out. She explained that there was something wrong with Buffy. I left the iron in the bathroom, and went flying downstairs.
Dad was carryin Buffy to my aunt's pick-up truck, as I ran after him worried.
- We are taking her to the vet. - He answered, -She won't move. -
And he was right, Buffy was breathing, her stunned eyes moving, looking at me, but she wouldn't move a muscle, as if she had been petrified by some Harry Potter effect. I got into the front seat of my dad's van, and we went to the vet.
As she lay in the vet's bed, I looked at her. Her eyes were soft, and she licked my hand, it's allright, her eyes said. I was the wimp now.
An image came to me, an image of a much smaller me, and a much smaller Buffy. My arms cradling her, telling her that it was ok, that I was just in my room, but that I needed to leave her in that small box in the living room, otherwise my parents would get upset. I remembered getting up in the middle of the night, comforting her.
- Thunder is just a sound Buffy, nothing is going to happen to you. I am here. I won't let it happen. I love you. - My seven year old voice in my head.
Because I knew she was suffering. And so did my dad, and so did the vet. Dad said the words I feared most.
- She's suffering so much Monica Paola. -
- We can still save her. - I said weeping, - I can't do that. -
The vet looked nervous, he didn't know who to listen to. My dad hugged me, and said that it was the best we could do.
- I could give her some electrolytes, maybe it's just lack of potasium, you know, I mean because she's all cramped up... - But he saw my dad's look, and agreed.
I looked at Buffy, tears rolling down my eyes.
- Please don't do it. Please don't... - My voice choked away, going into another hard to breath cry. Buffy licked me again, and I cried harder. I heard my dad's voice faintly, telling me things I already knew. Thigs that explained how sick she was now. How we had saved her already, and we had fought for her, but that she was suffering too much now. I hated to think of myself as selfish, but I couldn't know if this is what she wanted. Because I couldn't help myself from feeling guilty.
I cried harder when I saw the vet getting the needle ready. That's all I had? A few moment with my best friend?
- Buffy, I'm so sorry. So sorry, I didn't... I didn't want this for you, I don't know.. don't know what to say... so sorry. - I opened my eyes to look at her avoiding the watery cape that covered my eyes.
That's when I saw it. I looked at her quilt and saw it wet, I apologized saying how stupid I was for getting her quilt wet, but the I saw the wetness wasn't coming from my tears. The tears were her's. I saw a tear roll down her eye.
- Buffy! Please don't cry! - I cried harder.
My dog was actually crying. Not wimping like dogs usually do. Crying. Like I was.
That small tear broke my heart. I hugged her, and my dad told me it was time to get out. But I didn't. I didn't care what the doctor or dad said. I wanted to be there. Until the end of it.
- I am here. - I said once again. - Please don't cry. - And more tears striked from our eyes.
I saw the doctor give her a shot. She looked fine. Buffy had always been resistant. But then she started panting.
- WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER?! - I yelled at the poor doctor. And the she breathed one last time.
I don't know where all those tears came from. Because I felt like there was no possible space for all that water inside my eyes. Because I cried so much. I had apologized so much, so much for everything I hadn't done. And my aunt said there was nothing to apologize for. That I had given her a wonderfull life. But I remebered that one last look. those tears we cried together. And it broke my heart once more. I have written many things in her honor, and this is just one of them. She deserves many more, for everything she did for me.
A lot of people think it's weird to cry for a dog. But to me, it's the most normal thing, to cry for a lost friend.