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My childhood dog and best friend passed away while I was in college. He used to force his way into my room, jump on the bed, and dig himself under the blanket every morning before I had to get my ass up for school, because he also hated waking up at 4am when my mom would wake up to get ready for work. I don't even have the solace of knowing that he died peacefully, because the day he passed, apparently the doctors said he had late-stage stomach cancer and his stomach was almost entirely tumors. We always assumed he just didn't like being held because he would yelp whenever we touched his stomach and chest, but that was actually because it was extremely painful for him to be held. When my mother called to tell me to come home because he might not make it through the night (went to school a few counties away), I just hung up on her and secluded myself away. I didn't actually find out he passed until a week later when she physically drove to my apartment to tell me, since I was ignoring my phone.
I have two of what I guess would be considered his grandchildren, and they look so much like him it's uncanny. One of them shares so many of his mannerisms, it's unreal. I think I spend so much free time with them as a way of coping.