8 years ago, when I was 15, my parents gave in and let my pick a dog. I decided that I wanted a pug; cute (I think, anyway), fun, and full of personality. This little dog was very special to me; he and I were best friends. He was with me through some difficult times, and helped me pass (and do well!) in my university classes as he would always just chill with me while I was studying in my room.
The last 13 or 14 moths, however, were very trying times in my life. My grandfather was extremely sick with cancer, and I had never lost anybody so close. MY grandpa fought and fought and as he deteriorated I became more and more depressed, but what was awesome was that my pup (who was now 8, but as dog owners know, they're ALWAYS puppies) knew something was up and spent more and more time with me.
Unfortunately, on June 1st, my grandfather lost his battle with cancer; I was sad, but we had known things were probably not going to end well for a few months, so we were prepared. That, and I had my dog. Life, however, doesn't always like to play fair though, and less than 24 hours later, after a vet trip because he was acting strange, we discovered that my dog, too, had cancer, and needed to basically be put down immediately. The vet said that this particular type of cancer takes around 60 days from start to finish to end the dog's life, and she estimated that it had probably been about 60 days; she also said that there are very few outside indicators that would raise the alarm that something was seriously wrong. There was nothing we could do.
Where I'm going with this is here: I like to think of myself as a relatively masculine dude; gym, sports, beer, etc. Though the whole ordeal with my grandfather, i had been able to keep face relatively well. yes, i was sad (but not overly emotional), but I was able to rationalize things well, and could understand that grandpa had lived a long life, had fought hard, and it was his time. However, as my puppy slipped away, I lost it. The vet handed me a brochure and let us (family) sit in the room to collect ourselves before we had to drive home. The brochure had this poem in it, and for whatever reason, I felt better. I don't have the strongest beliefs in higher powers and afterlives and stuff, but this made me feel awesome.
Fast forwards to now, new puppy in tow (i couldn't go dogless and wanted to give a new pup a great life), I still get sad, but I read this poem sometimes to cal myself. Maybe one day I'll see my first boy again, along with all my other canine pals that i plan to have, as they don't live forever (on a side note, why cant dogs live like 100 years like friggin' parrots?!).
SO, OP, if you see this, when the time is right, try to find yourself a new canine friend. I'm sure your local shelter has one or two that would LOVE for you to be their friend! And I'm sure there are plenty of puppies out there that could use a great life like the one you gave Bentley! New pets will never replace the ones you had, but they aren't supposed to. I know how much losing you best friend sucks, OP. MY condolences and I certainly hope you feel better.