Your Pet Loss Stories

'Not The Way I Wanted'

Mr. Beefy hadn't always been my dog. My uncle knew the owner of the mother and when she had the puppies he came over in the middle of the night just to see them born and picked him out of the litter.

Named him Mr. Beefy, like the Devil's dog from Little Nicky. He was a perfect little pure bred Pug, and my uncle cared for him like he was his son.

When I was 8 or 9 my uncle came to live with us and after a month or two he was able to bring Beefy. I remember coming home from school and suddenly having a Pug come running up to greet me, jumping and licking all over me. And for 7 years he was my dog. Many places my uncle moved he couldn't have a pet, or his girlfriend didn't like them, so happy he stayed with me as my pet.

Whenever my uncle came home he would always run to him, he always knew who his real owner was. I had a nice home with two fenced in acres of land to roam and he was very fit and well loved, but my uncle finally found a home, and a girlfriend who loved animals even more than him, and after much sadness Beefy was taken there to live.

This morning I was supposed to leave early in the morning to visit my grandparents, I always passed their house heading there. I decided to sleep in and just be a little late, and was awakened by the phone ringing, I let someone else answer it as I got ready thinking surely it's grandma wondering where I was. I sat down a moment to check my phone before I left and my other uncle whom I live with opened my door and told me Beefy had died.

I stood up in shock "What? What happened?!" He had been hit by a truck and I was instantly so mad "Why wasn't he on a leash they knew they lived by a busy highway why wasn't he watching or on the runner" I just kept spitting questions and shut the door and cried and cried.

Once I calmed myself he came to inform me they were bringing him to my house. Since they live at a rented property. I walked outside and sat in the shed holding a shovel, how do I bury my dog. Where do I bury him, should it be in a corner, or under a tree? I sat there for an hour and finally chose a spot near the side yard, beside where my mom's pet bird had been buried many years before. How deep do I go, how wide? I dug and dug and dug, South Carolina red clay sucks to dig in but it's nearly everywhere so I just kept digging till I just felt defeated.

Another hour passed and my uncle got there. He stood at his open truck and I thought in horror, don't tell me he's just laying in the trunk? But after a minute he mumbled "Beefy" and picked a cooler out of his trunk. A god damn cooler. He was my no means a small dog, he probably weighted a good 20-30 pounds. But the cooler, was so so small. I know he had to have been crammed in there, or what part were left of him that is. A small god damn cooler, just duct taped shut. The hole was deep enough so my uncle, in his nice work slacks dug and dug, angrily, crying deeply behind sun glasses. Stopped and said "My dog isn't going to be buried in this damn box" and began to tear the tape off that surrounded it. " I can't see this I'm sorry" I said turning away. "Well don't look" he mumbled tearing off the tape.

He opened the box and just said "Oh god oh god don't look don't look.. .... Oh god don't look" I fell to my knees, I couldn't even picture what Beefy looked like but I cannot unhear my uncle repeating "Oh god oh god" he tired to get him out the small cooler, but I assume could not get him out. "Please Beefy get out the box Beefy please come out this box" he started repeating. "Come out buddy please" but he couldn't get him out. So he put the box in opened and started covering him up. Still knelt on the ground I cried and writhed in agony hearing dirt be shoveled in. All the while we both were mumbling "I'm sorry Beefy".

That morning he didn't wanna go out, but my uncle was in a hurry, and nudged him out and shut the door. I would have been driving by exactly at that time I always did, but instead I slept in. Maybe I could have passed by and seen him and got him out the road before he was hit, or maybe I could have found him sooner than they did. Held him while he yelped and howled in pain alone on the road for far too long. I don't know.

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