To me, Frankie was more than a dog; he was the most important “person” on Earth. When I met my girlfriend, Leslie, I was upfront about Frankie and our special bond. She seemed to understand, and over the three years we were together, she and Frankie developed a trusting relationship.
Everything was going well until we started discussing moving in together. One evening, as we browsed listings for a house that could accommodate our future dreams — kids, a pool, and studio spaces for work — I jokingly mentioned how Frankie would be our practice child. She laughed but then, to my utter shock, stated seriously that Frankie couldn’t come with us.
I stood firm, unwilling to compromise on Frankie’s place in my life. “My dog saved me, and he’s coming with me, no matter what,” I said, emphasizing that I would never abandon him. She left in anger, and for two days, there was silence between us.
I struggled with her absence, but my resolve didn’t waver. Frankie had been my rock, my furry angel who saw me through my darkest days. The thought of leaving him for a relationship was unthinkable.
He was more than just a dog, he was a part of me, a symbol of my resilience and recovery. I realized that any future relationship would have to include Frankie, not as an add-on but as an integral part of my life. My bond with him was non-negotiable, a testament to our journey from brokenness to healing.
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