Little Dog, Remember Me

when I was in fifth grade, 

my dog died.

we had her before I was born.

we cremated her.

she lived at my grandparents house during her last few months, for she was too sick to be left alone at home while we go to school and work.

it was my grandmother and uncle who took her to the vet after she started not being able to breathe.

the day after she died, I had a cheer competition.

my brother was too sick to walk or speak.

I didn’t find out about her death until half a week later.

I went to school and cried all day.

at recess, I remember sitting on a picnic table towards the end of recess, 

one of our last periods, 

crying,

and a boy walked up to me.

we weren’t really friends,

all I knew was his name and where he was from (Canada)

he asked me what was wrong.

I responded, 

everything. 

so he just gave me a hug and sat while I cried.

he didn’t say anything except,

I’m sorry.

and I looked up with my tear stained, little face, and gave the slightest damn about anything since

she died.