I got a dog at home when I was in middle school. After I went off for college, I would only see him when home for the holidays or other short trips home. My mom always told me that he'd be at the fence waiting for me, but I didn't really think much about it, and always thought he was connected to the other family members too. It was true, though... when I did come home, he'd put his paws up, and wag his tail. It'd be just like old times, until I had to go home.

I finished college but didn't move back home. My mom told me how he had started to slow down. How his run to the fence transitioned to a slower and slower trot, and finally a walk. In that time, my little brother had grown and become fond of him. But still, he'd be waiting at the fence. Possibly for when I next returned. Since I was working and living in the city far away, I didn't have room for him and thought my fam and the large yard was good for him (a collie / sheep dog mix).

She called me one day to tell me they found he had died in the back yard over night. He hadn't been ailing from what she said. But she had seen him come to the fence like normal that day, and slowly walk back to the porch.

That was 2007. I still feel bad that I couldn't have been there for him. I'll forever wonder how much he wondered and worried about me. I probably won't get another pet :(