Drunk Rant

My dog is dying. My boy. My brown/brindle pit-bull. Being 12 years old, he's getting closer to death. But with him goes my protection. He sat in front of me, he growled, he laid behind me so I didn't hit my head as she (my ex wife) threw me down.

She hated him at times, others she'd love him. Similar to me, until she hated me and all the love was gone. I still had him. When I left our home, I took him with me. I couldn't give him up. My broken heart caused tears to fall on his skin more than I could count.

Funny story? I haven't seen my ex wife in a few years. So what is happening? Why am I rambling about all that again? Do I forgive her?

If you can forgive someone and still have scars and fear, do you really forgive them? If so, then yes, I forgive her.

"Wait....weren't you talking about your dog passing?"

Yes. You're right.

He is all I have from those awful abusive years. After he passes, there is nothing left of that. Good right?! I should be happy.

You're right. I'm happy that divorcing her was the best thing I have ever done. This dog was my protection from the abuse. Now she's gone...good riddance, but with my dog passing...that means that part of my life passes away for good.

"You want the abusive part to pass away, right Wolf?"

Yes. The abusive part. After I left her, I took him with me. He was a good boy and did his job as a best friend. With him goes my protection. With him goes my previous marriage. With him goes my traumatic past.

With his death, I'm being told there is nothing to protect me from anymore. With his death, It's gone.

A human being lives 100 years at most. I'm 35, and that part of my life is gone, Forever. And that's okay. But his death is symbolism that I need to allow my trauma to die too. She beat the hell out of me, and now she's gone.

I wish I could say more, but I know vocal has rules and stipulations.

I want him to go in peace. If he goes in peace, everything else will as well.

I hope you're understanding what I mean. Running through my head over everything that happened. The hitting, the slapping, spitting, anger, throwing things, and more. My brown and caramel brindle sat there in front of me.

Maybe I'm writing this and hoping nobody will see it. But if you're still reading all the way to this sentence, then that means you relate to me.

This article really has nothing to do with my Dog. It has everything to do with abuse against women and MEN.

I didn't lay a fkn finger on her. I held her when she screamed and yelled, I took her fists, I took her kicks, her put downs, her spit, her laughs. I took the venom that she served to me. Again, nothing to do with her. It has to do with my passing dog.

"Wait Wolf, didn't you just say that it has nothing to do with your passing dog?"

Yes. Really it's both.

I had a life where I was married. I DID Love her at one time, until I saw her real self. After that, I couldn't escape. How embarrassed would I be, telling people that this woman abused me, cheated on me, laughed and spit in my face? Well, my dog has been with me through it all.

Bottom line, He was my gift from God. He was my saving grace. She was toxic like poison. She's gone.

Once he takes his last breath, it will all be gone. All of it.

Jax Wolf.