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  • Karolina Mankowski

I lost my best friend



Animals make the world a better place.

They a make house a home.

They change lives.


Seba certainly changed mine, the day he came into my world, the day he left, and every day in between.

Some say that losing a pet might be harder than losing a human. I certainly understand this now.

As a pet owner, you never want to believe that your beloved furbaby is going to pass one day. You can't imagine a day without a big furball to snuggle with, a loveball to make your sad days better and the perfect companion on your evening strolls.

A bad day was never that bad when you have your best friend to come home to. Every celebration, they are there. Every struggle, they are there. With the same positive, enthusiastic, loving energy. Every. Single. Day.


Then the dreaded day comes. They cross the Rainbow Bridge.


It's a day you cant get ready for. There is no manual. There are no systems and processes. You simply have to feel. It's the only way through the pain.


The worst part is you know the day when it comes. Even worse, you know there is nothing you can do about it.


What was meant to be a checkup from the vet's home visit, I knew it would be Seba's last day. As I left work early, I went to McDonald's to get him some chicken nuggets and hamburger to cheer him up, feeling at peace, the acceptance of him leaving me soon.

It wasn't acceptance, it was Shock.


Shock, that in a few short hours, my angel would be gone forever.


The second the vet walked in and looked at Seba, reality set in for me, and grief and sadness overcame me.


I got mad at him for leaving. I wept, laying on top of his body yelling "WHY!!?"

I knew it was best for him, for his body was giving up and I wanted him to run free again. But a part of me wanted to be selfish and keep him.

I cried more tears than I have ever before in my life. In his last breath, I held his head and told him what a good boy he was.

He was such a good boy. He closed his eyes even before the vet put the initial needle in. It was his way of letting me know I was making the right decision. Like a true dog, selfless even in their last moments.


The morning after was a fog. For the first time, I was waking up to an empty house. It was no longer a home. Simply a house.

As I walked around the house in disbelief, not knowing what to do as our morning routine was instantly replaced with confusion and emotional haze. I stood at the kitchen entryway staring at his bowls and an array of emotions went through me. After what felt like an hour, I went to fill his water bowl. In case he got thirsty. In case he came back.


It's been a month since he has left and not a day goes by that I don't at least shed a tear from the grief. I feel him waiting for me every day, even though now I try to spend the least amount of time away from the house. But no matter how long I'm gone, he waits for me.

The emotions come in waves and at random. From the deep sadness of missing my boy to guilt, for contemplating getting another companion. This is grief.


Seba was my son. My life revolved around his. That's what mothers do, they come second after their babies. Even though we had a short time together, I am happy he chose me as his momma.


The water bowl might be empty now, but comforting to know that it won't be forever.


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