The Picture I never took

Georgia, the best dog ever. She was a brown ball of fur. Her breed of dog was a quirky combination of Pug and Yorkie; a Porkie. She was energetic, playful, and therapeutic. Throughout my childhood I felt down often, but Georgia was my escape, the hanging of her pink tongue and the constant wiggle of her brown curl of a tail helped me realize that I had a friend. She didn't speak English but she spoke my language. I remember the times when I would share my green apple lollipops with her and we would both run throughout our backyard with green tongues and doped off sucrose. When she had her puppies, the house would revert to chaos. My sister and I were in charge of taking care of the puppies, we had to bathe them and take them out into the sun to stay warm. Georgia gave me the same look  I would give her in my times of sadness. The stare. She was lost and didn't know how to take care of her cachorritos (Spanish for little puppies). I empathized, I didn't know how to take care of my life. Then we fast forward a couple of years. Georgia had bladder stones, it was the end. I never got a proper goodbye. My parents took her to the animal hospital in San Luis Obispo and she was then put down as the surgery to remove her mineral buildups was going top be too painful for her small body. Georgia was gone and I never got a picture of her for myself. This little Porkie, my little Porkie was gone...

As I grow older this memory still bugs me, here is a song that kind of relates my sentiments