My pug passed away a year and a half ago. He was 13 years old. I got him when I was 14 from a rescue when he was around two. He was the last of my family's original pets when I was in highschool as well. I took him to college with me. There were times when school bills got so high that I had to choose between feeding me or myself. I always chose him. He was my very special boy, and I always told him that someday I'd have a big house in the middle of nowhere where he could run and do whatever he wanted.

When he started getting older I had the same feelings you have right now. I used to lay outside on my back porch with him on my chest and tell him what a wonderful boy he was and how much I was going to miss him when he was gone. I did this all the time. I told him how much I loved him and how my life would never be the same without him.

During this time I met my now wife, and she loved him to death too. We eventually got that big house with the big yard, and he was old. He could barely make it up the back porch steps when I finally came through on my promise. I started carrying him down and up every day, until one day it became too much for him.

I told you this to let you know that losing a friend that important will never be easy, and you will probably stress about it every day until the time comes, but the important thing is to recognize the here and now that you have with them. We have two dogs now, but no one will ever mean more to me than a pug named Duck.