May 21st 2006, 8 weeks old Max came home. 31 year old version of myself had no idea how that moment would alter my life.
Years of reading and listening to others about the bond with their dog had sparked my curiosity to live with a dog. I do give credit to myself for making that decision and changing my mind. Everything else what happened since then was purely because of the bloody joy of life called Max.
There are no alternate histories. I am so grateful for that.
Sixteen years had since passed since that magical moment. Max is no more. Sooner or later, I will be no more. The thirteen plus years we lived together cannot be altered; it will remain etched and preserved in a metamorphic amber of time.
But who gives a fuck about pondering about an uncertain future which we have no control?
The time between now and before I kick the bucket what I do and act according to goodness learned from Max is what matters. That's the only thing that matters. Action is the only thing that matters.
So I try.
I miss you Max.
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