Rudi

Rudi was 16 years old when he died. He was my best friend and my brother and he had always, always looked after me. He didn't care what I did, he still doesn't care what I do, wherever he is now. He was severely arthritic and blind when he died of cancer at 6:06pm on the 5th of October, 2007 but I knew that he could still see me in his own way.

If I had had a bad day or I was stressed out he'd let me moan and then kiss the tears off my face and let me tickle him; he was so funny when he was laughing because he used to go all spazzy on me. We used to lay in front of the fire together while I told him my stories: he heard everything first. My light hair and his dark blended together when we laid in front of that fire; his brown eyes would sparkle as I read.

 I didn't let him see me cry when he was dying. 

 'I love you Rudi. I promise I won't forget you. You'll always be the most imporatant person to me. I'll see you when I get up there, ok?' He bobbed his head, kissed my cheek and I kissed his one last time.

I had to give Rudi a place in my writing on here. As he was, is and always will be a part of me, why not show it on here?

Did I mention that Rudi was - is, as far as I'm concerned - my dog?

The End

64 comments about this exercise Feed