Jephnol Byron Blog

This photo was taken shortly after we learned Bug had cancer. He had no idea he was sick. To him it was just another day at the beach.

As the cancer advanced, Bug grew weaker. Even the short walk to the yard wore him out. He was lying in the kitchen next to my office one afternoon and I went to him. I needed to say things to him. The words I whispered were for me, but I knew he would understand the tones and the affection. I leaned over him—he was so tired he didn’t even look up—and I told him how much I loved him and would miss him. I wanted to simply say the words, but they broke on my emotions. I stroked his fur, pressed my face against his ear and wept as I spoke.

“I love you, Buddy. I’m going to miss you so much. I don’t want you to go, Buddy. I don’t want you to go, Bug.”

I sat on the floor with him for a while, saying the same things over and over. Finally, I pressed my head against his one more time, stood, and went back to my office. I sat at my desk and cried. Then I looked into the kitchen. Bug had lifted himself up and was walking slowly towards my office door. He lay down facing me through the doorway, looked into my eyes and smiled. He consoled me. He made me laugh through my tears.

I miss him exactly the way I told him I would. He was my Buddy. I loved him.