With the exception of Swag, my cat, Whooza, my roommate's dog, and my roommate, the one being I spend the most time with each and every day, is my neighbor's dog Hamoot (possibly spelled Helmut). He is a big, beautiful German Shepherd, but most importantly, he's my friend. Like me, he is alone most of the day. Outside, with nature, and aside from the occasional car to bark at or the landlord's visit, he lives in solitude. Each morning, when he is out, rain or shine, I go visit him and we play fetch, tug-of-war, and on the nicer days, just sit. There are times, like those with my closest human friends, when words are not needed to connect. I knew when I was moving here, it would be temporary, but I had no idea I'd have such a connection. I adore him, and he seems to adore me. Recently, due to scheduling and his rare time inside, I went a day and a half without seeing him. When I returned home, he lept, barked, then cascaded me with licks, massive paws against my chest, and the sounds of relief. I patted his head, combed his hair with my fingers, then told him I missed him. Instead of grabbing his stick, he rubbed against my legs, then sat by my feet. Just long enough to convey his own message.
I know I will soon be leaving him and it will leave an enormous void in my life and my heart. What hurts most is knowing he won't understand. I guess that is what love is.
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