We used to have this Great Dane. His name was Abaddon. He didn’t live for very long, but he was a sweet dog. Great with kids, got along really well with the cat. He was really attached to me. Whenever there was a thunderstorm he would come to me and hide his head under my shoulder or between my legs. For all intents and purposes, he stayed puppy. He would always try to lie in his old bed less than half his size. Confused, he would spin around in it, trying to fix it until it was comfy enough, and then he just lied down and went to sleep with his butt sticking out.
Maybe he wasn’t the smartest dog, but that didn’t matter. Many dog owners claim that their dog’s the best in the world, and I’m no different. But there’s more to it. If it weren’t for Abaddon, I wouldn’t be here today. The big puppy found it in him to grow up at just the right moment. He heard that explosion long before me. And instead of hiding between my legs, he guided me to safety. I’m glad he managed to give his life meaning before dying.