My Most Prized Possession

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Oct 18, 2020
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A man I know online often video-chats with me. He loves history, so he loves when I screen-share photos of my collections and explain much about them.

One day he asked me, "This may be a really hard question, but what is your favourite thing you've dug or own?"

I thought for a second and said, "That is a hard question." He expected I'd show him some antique, and I was going to at first show an antique as it was what he expected. So I looked around.

I was going to show him a large antique family Bible and tell him it was that, for the Bible is what our God has given to us to get to know Him. I would have then begun to talk about God and how much He has done for me, even though I hurt Him so much. But instead, I did something very unexpected.

I hopped off my bed and stepped to my cupboard. Opening it, I looked down at the most precious things I keep in there to protect from sun damage.

I couldn't decide on just one. So I grabbed the green and white collar, the silver-framed photograph of a little black and white dog amid the green of bright flora, and a little brown box decorated ornately.

I hopped back into my bed and looked at the man on the screen and said something like, "I can't decide which one. They all are so important."

I then showed him each, explaining what he was seeing from the grainy camera. I explained to him how much Steve, my long-dead dog whose profile picture I use on many sites, was my entire world. "And this is what's left of him, the burned and crushed bones now ashes in this little hand-carved box. And here is his first collar and the bandanna we put on him after his first bath."

I then said, "Bet you were expecting something antique." He was indeed.

I grew up mostly away from people, so animals became my life. When Steve died (and the events that occurred later that day, which I will not go into detail about), it set off or at least worsened a disorder I have, one known as Major Depressive Disorder. It would be 3 years before I got diagnosed with it, but it also takes 2 years to diagnose it accurately.

Steve was my happiness. I was just a young teen when I watched him die over about a week, before being called out of school to take him to the vet to be put down (my decision when I learned they couldn't figure out what was going on to cause him to seize and be paralysed all week). I went back to school that same day, but it was a horrid mistake because of some very cruel people.

People may not understand just how much a dog can mean to someone, but they need to know that not everyone is the same. What doesn't affect you may greatly affect someone else. It affected me in many damaging ways that still are not undone and have lead me to do many things to myself that I cannot undo.

We're all different, and we all respond differently to things. We also interpret the same thing differently, and even the same person may interpret the same thing differently depending on what their situation is at that moment.

Steve was my entire life. I often wrote to myself how my life ended with his. I love that little dog so much, but he's been dead since May 2, 2011, around the late 10 am hour.

My most prized possession will likely be thrown out when I die, because I will never have children and have no close relatives. What means the most to me is worthless to most everyone else.

It still hurts. I don't know if it ever won't in this world.

When I lost my dog this past fall It led to a depth of grief that I hadn’t ever experienced.
My 15 year old Boston Terrier Boo had been with me since he was 2 or 3, he went to work with me and was there with my kids from toddlers to teenagers.
I’m sorry for your loss and I understand completely how you feel. RIP to Steve, Boo, and all the dog family we’ve lost

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