I understand that not everyone is an dog lover, but I am and this post is about how important my dog is to me. How he has helped me more than any therapy, drugs, or whatever else y’all can think of.
My dog’s name is Goliath. My husband picked this name because for him, G is a big dog at 85lbs. He is used to his mother bichon’s who are less than 20.
Goliath is almost 5, and from what we can tell is probably a great dane and pitbull mix.
Now I’ve had dogs before, but let me tell you, I’ve never had such a connection to one. He knew I was pregnant, he always had to lay with his head on my stomach. It is almost like Goliath knows me better than I know myself. I can tell you, he is the reason I am still alive.
After I lost Nyla I was in a downward spiral. Let me tell you, finding a reason to live after holding your dead child in your arms is hard.
G had always been by my side before this. He followed me everywhere and I took him everywhere, even if I was just running down to the gas station.
But after I lost Nyla, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He had to be in the same room as me. I always had to be in his line of sight. If I was crying, he would just lay down next to me instead of licking my face. It was like he knew I just had to let it out.
He sensed when my anxiety attacks were coming and would be all over me. He knew my silent thoughts as well.
I will always remember one night when I was sitting on the side of my bed. G was asleep on the couch in the living room and I wasn’t making any noise. Just sitting there quietly, holding a bottle of pills, and trying to find a reason to not swallow the lot of them and have the pain of losing Nyla be over.
Goliath just appeared. All of a sudden he was sitting by my side, with his paw on my knee looking at me as if to say “whatcha doin with those?”
That was it. I couldn’t do it. The second I saw his face I knew that I needed to be alive to take care of him. I didn’t need to take care of my husband, I have no other children, my friends could go on without me. But G needed me.
Like I said before, it is hard to find something to live for after holding your tiny daughters lifeless body, and maybe some people will make fun of me for living for my dog.
But I don’t care. You live for what you want to. I don’t care if it’s your garden, your church, your kids or your pet rock! Find something that makes you understand that somebody needs you.
So for me? I live for my dog. My crazy dog who thinks at 85lbs he can fit in my lap. Who is handsome as hell and knows it. He is there for me without any judgement.
He doesn’t complain that I’m crying for the 495th time in a month. He doesn’t care that sometimes I can’t get off the couch. He loves me when I don’t love myself.
My G dog. 💜