My dog died February 27. I'm writing about this here because all my writings about him disappeared recently when the internet forum I made them on crashed.
Let me say that in light of the death of my cousin's grandparents, I've felt very foolish for the "grieving" I've gone through, and still go through, for Midnight. Yet I cannot deny my pain. He was killed suddenly in front of me - six feet in front of me - by a speeder as I ran over him. He was 18 months old. When my gf broke up with me, she gave him to me to care for. I consider him to be instrumental in us getting back together, as updating her on him was the only real reason I had to keep in contact with her. I feel... indebted to that dog for the relationship I enjoy.
Looking back, I also see that I treated Midnight like a son. I took him everywhere. He loved to ride with me in the car. I would carry him into grocery stores with me, take him running in the park, "take him to grandma's..." I dunno. I was even looking for ear protectors for him so that I could take him shooting with me on my farm. I never found any, so that wasn't going to happen. :)
Sarah and I have gotten another dog. He can never replace Midnight, but I'm glad to have him with me. We got a rescue dog, who we named Jack Bauer. Midnight was a rescue dog too. The difference between Midnight and Jack Bauer is one of timing. Midnight was rescued as a puppy. He came to live with Sarah at 5 months of age. Jack Bauer is two, and was kept in a cage for all of his life. He's scared of me still, even after eight days of being around me. When I take him outside - whether to the dog park or to my parents back yard or to a field by the apartments, he stands and shivers - being in the open is terrifying to him. At home, he often hides behind books in the bottom of my nightstand. We'll love him, but he might never be able to be affectionate or receive affection from us the way Midnight did. But we'll love him all the same.
I guess we're dog people.