Sin perro que me ladre.

Could not have said it better myself.

I'm doing much better today.
Yesterday I was FUCKED. UP. My eyelids ballooned to a level never seen before, especially my bottom lids.
Mom: You didn't cry this hard for any of your grandparents...
Me: That's because I wasn't the first one to find their lifeless body...

Each time I though of my poor doggie's face... that giant grin, I broke down.
Smiling, even in death... THAT was the kind of doggie he was.
Your dog is SO UGLY and MEAN!
That was the general consensus amongst the girls who met my dog.
Guy's would typically admire his size and his vicious nature... though sometimes they would say "how ugly..."
He'd bark up a storm and threaten the shit out of everyone he met, but he really was a giant teddy bear... to us, his owners.
Why the fuck would I want a friendly guard dog? Fuck that shit. I LOVED that my dog licked no one's ass but ours (uh... not like that, but you get the idea).
He knew something that takes humans a motherfucking lifetime to learn: Trust NO. ONE.

He may have been "ugly" but he was also a sweet, silly, intelligent, witty little bastard.
To see how loyal he was, and how his sole purpose in life was to make us proud... keep us safe... it owned me.

That dog was the love of my life, and took a large part of my soul with him.

In Spanish, there's a saying that goes: Sin perro que le ladre.
Without a dog to bark at her.
It's a way to denote someone is alone. Completely, utterly alone... usually in reference to a single girl, especially a spinster.
Now I know why the damn quote is used-- I'm the fucking embodiment!
Those were the only words crossing my mind yesterday.
I don't even have a dog now...

But like I said, I'm ok now. Very much so. I just needed to cry it all out (I would even cry when I'd remember how on Sunday, as I was walking out of the movie theater, I saw the poster for Frankenweenie, and thought "If that were possible, and Tyson died, I'd bring him back..." Like I said, the universe trips me the fuck out sometimes)... and I was good to go by the afternoon.
Tyson will now be a beautiful memory of the only male in my life that loved me unconditionally (sorry, Pops, but you don't hold this spot because you told me yourself you'd disown me if I told you I was gay. Though I'm not, that's still putting conditions on me. If I had a kid, I wouldn't give a flying fuck about his/her sexuality. I'd just want my kid to be happy and safe), and listened to my shit willingly.
Mi corazón, mi amor.