He died. It was just 6 hours, but we all know how things could change in a minute. Never thought it would happen, but then again, we're just like everyone else. Aren't we?

I left home for school at 4pm...I remember him looking at me through the gate. Watching me leave. I didn't even wave goodbye like I usually do.

I come home 6 hours later and everything's changed. He was still warm when I got home, short enough to still be almost alive but long enough for rigor mortis to set in. My aunt couldn't get him down on her own. I had the urge to skip school this evening. I wish I had followed through. Who knew that actually being a good student could hurt you. We didn't even do anything there. If I had skipped, maybe then I could have been there, since my room is right in front of him. I might have saved him. I could have saved him. I feel, numb. I probably should be crying more, but I don't feel anything. Maybe this is all a bad dream.

I don't know what to think. We were bad owners. I was a bad owner. I know there's no use thinking about regrets now, but I can't help it. These last few weeks have been one stress after another. This one tops it. He wasn't happy with the move. We shouldn't have brought him down. I didn't like moving down here, he didn't either.

He was probably only there for at most an hour, gone sometime between 9-10. God's way of taking back what we never appreciated. He's out there alone going cold right now, because it's raining like hell again, and it's midnight. I want my puppy back.

God. I leave him in your care. Please, let him know he's in my thoughts and dear to my heart.
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