Beck is Dead

I told my mother many times that I wanted Beck to die while playing at the park, fast and painlessly with a heart attack at the age of ten, instead of growing old and endure great physical pain that comes with age. 

Beck is dead. She died sometime around 11am yesterday.

I keep turning my head, instinctively looking for her, but she is never found.

Beck and I were at one of the many parks in Yuppieville. As soon as I opened the back of the Tahoe, Beck flew out of the SUV, and tore down the park, running as fast as she can. I caught up with her in a few minutes, and found her digging a hole under a tree. I turn my back, and call for her but she never runs to catch up. I look back over my shoulder and can't find her.

Hours later, Beck is located right in the spot where I saw her last. She probably died quickly and peacefully. There were no signs of trauma.

For the better part of her six year old life, I was with her constantly. We were usually never more than a few feet apart from each other. I took her everywhere, to school, to my doctors' appointments, to the grocery store, Costco--

I have no idea what to do about all her balls that she loved. Should I get rid of her dog bed?

I have to face all those people at school, who are used to seeing me with Beck, and deal with their questions about why she's suddenly missing. Many students received great pleasure from having her in class. Beck was known for walking up to a student while she/he is sitting at the desk, and gently resting her chin on their thigh, coming up for a pet. She got one student through an anxiety attack.

I have dog food that she'll never eat. I have tick medication and wormer for her that she'll never swallow down. I have a dog bed she'll never lie in again. I'll be alone now when I'm downtown.

She was beautiful. People told me that over and over every time we went outside.