I’ve never cried so much in my life. I didn’t cry this much when my father died (granted, I didn’t have to watch his death).
Abigail is laying by my feet as I play the original Metal Gear Solid. The sounds of MGS put my mind at ease.
Abigail starts crying as her lungs quit, she can’t breathe the way she’s use to. I told myself that once my little lady is in verbal pain, then that’s when I pull the trigger. I’m sobbing like a 5 year old who just dropped his lollipop.
I lift Abigail to take her outside. She shits the most rancid shit that I have ever smelled, it runs down my leg. Death doesn’t smell good.
As I carry my Poo Bear to her final resting place I’m screaming for Dana (my fiance) to wake up and clean the floor. I don’t want my daughter walking through feces.
I pull out a 9 shooter 22. out of my shorts. My neighbor gave it to me last night. He said that I should own the gun that I shoot my dog with (people like me for some reason).
I put the barrel of the 22. to Abigail’s temple. It’s beautiful outside here in sunny Florida. I stand there for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, 20 minutes…..
I can’t pull the trigger.
I lean down to kiss Abigail and bring her back inside. As I’m leaning down she licks my face, looks at me, then passes. It was a good day to die.
I love you Abigail, you were absolutely gorgeous. Catch you on the other side.