It took me a while to actually start writing about the theme, because I’ve never contemplated suicide, or never actively thought about it, although I’ve had a few moments in life where I was almost on self-destruct mode. I’ve had a life with mixed experiences, both good and bad, and while the good ones were nice and stuck to my head, I sometimes have the drive to hide the bad ones. I do take them as they come and they did bring me down at the time, but I’ve learned that nothing is permanent and everything that’s bad can go away.

One of my lowest points was when my father passed away almost nine years ago. I was sad, upset and angry, but most of all I was disappointed. Because I had only one advice for him, that I remember even to this day: “you’re not getting any younger, you’re not getting any healthier, you’re retired after more than 40 years of work, it’s time to relax and enjoy your retirement”. But he didn’t listen, he continued to live his life as he pleased, drowning his days in alcohol with his new whore girlfriend, who took all his remaining days, money and things. Less than a year after, he was gone. After more than twenty years of having some heart condition, topped with the drinking and the stressful living, his body just gave up.

So after he went on to the next place, I was pretty shook, even if we weren’t too close in his last years, and I went down a similar path for a few days. I was angry, sad, bitter and sometimes inebriated. I smoked a lot more and ate a lot less. I was distancing myself away from everyone and unknowingly I started to follow his footsteps. Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Luckily, I had a good friend. A very good friend. A best friend. She was by my side during that time and saw that I was riding a downward spiral and decided to take some action. Because we were really close and knew some things about me, she came to my door about a week or so after my dad died with a puppy in her arms. It was late, the dog was stinky and my first reaction was: “what the hell is this?”. The dog went inside the house, peed on my living room carpet, then crawled under the coffee table. And under my skin.

Soon the dog got a name, Foxy, and since then she never left my heart. Having her around helped me get back into shape, the added responsibility made me realize that I need to move on, to take care of myself and of Foxy too. I like to say that we saved each other, and although it sounds cheesy, I know it’s not far from the truth.

Sometimes life gets hard. Sometimes you might not even know that you need help. Keep friends close, talk to them, and if they try to give you advice, don’t follow it blindly, but take said advice into consideration.

And sometimes, a dog is all you need to help you power through hardships.