Prologue
I’ve heard it said that a dog is man’s best friend.
I never really believed that at first, since dogs are just animals and don’t understand friendship like humans do. But looking back, Ginger was the only one I was ever really close to, and of course I never realized it at the time. There’s another saying that I let slip past me without a second glance: you don’t truly understand how good something is until it’s gone. That’s one lesson I had to learn the hard way. Regretfully I must confess that in order to learn that lesson, it had cost me my best friend in the process.
Apparently I still have a lot to learn, because even now while I stand and look out the window as once again my best friend is taken away from me, I can’t help but think that I should have listened to the warning signs that were practically thrown into my face before it all came crashing down. It was like fate decided that I was no longer worthy of happiness. I somehow always managed to screw things up and there was no one left to blame but myself. I was alone in all of this. It all pointed to me. At my stupid, arrogant self that believed I could handle any situation on my own. I had pushed everyone that I truly loved and needed aside, as if I considered them to be of no help.
This is the way I’ve always handled things, especially after my parents died when I was only five. I wouldn’t let anyone try to explain what was going on inside of me. They couldn’t really understand how I felt or what it was like. They still don’t. No amount of probing and prodding from therapists let my thoughts and feelings out on a silver platter for them to go through and figure out so I’d be satisfied. I was alone—and would always be alone—to my thoughts, feelings and decisions. No one could possibly understand, nor would ever take the time to understand me. I should have learned by now that the only one who truly understood me, the real me, was Ginger. My beloved golden retriever. But like always, I never learn until it’s too late…
