The Adventures of a girl and her dog.

She was a quiet child, no one could fully penetrate the barrier she put up to stop anyone getting close, to stop herself from being hurt.
"Manic Depressive with Post Tramatic Stress Syndrome." The doctors declared, doling out the drugs which were meant to keep her going.
Some days she was alright, she could allow herself to hope that things were getting better. But there were the other days, the days which tormented her.

She loved saturday mornings. Those mornings where made for just her, and her dog. Together they would trek to the lagan across the road, amble through leaves and chase eachother around knarled trees. This time was simple, this time was a treasure.

"GERI!" She would often have to call through panting breaths as she finished her weekly lap around the field. The dog would sometimes look up, usually she just ignored her owner. Sniffing was much more important! Humans would never understand!
At the end, she would always amble across to be greeted with the open arms of the girl which loved her endlessly.

"I ruv you." Was whispered to her at the end of the day, as the sun went down and bed-time was approaching. "I ruv you so much."
The girl would stroke the dog until she was grunting in pleasure, but their time had to end. For there were other people who longed for the girl's company. Her grandmother.

Her grandmother lived alone in a beautiful big house, the dog was her only companion.
Due to her depression, the girl's father suggested that she spend weekends with her grandmother. She obliged, thinking joyously of the time she could spend with the dog. Her dog.

The girl didn't care much for other humans, they were much too shallow, too bitter and full of evil. In animals, her trust lay. She loved them with all her heart. But, to this dog, Geri, she gave her heart.

Everynight, she would have to tell her dog off at least five times for barking. But really, she wasn't mad. She would sit in the rain, soothing her beloved labrador as the taunting puppy next door yelped vigorously.
"Shhh, it's okay. It's going to be okay." She whispered into the damp, smelling fur she'd grown accustomed to over the last 10 years.

One night, as the girl lay on her make-shift bed (sofa) she began to read a book she bought for 50pence at the local animal charity store. The story made her weep hysterically as it ended. The book was called, "Marley and Me" and it was of a labrador who reminded her so much of the black mutt stuck out in the garden.
The aching joints, the tiredness which the star canine, Marley, faced in his elder years, Geri had now. She was the ripe old age of 13, and her age was starting to take its toll. But still the dog would bound around as she was greeted each morning by her owner. Still she would gobble up food as if she had been starved.

That night, the girl got up, and went out to see her dog. She hugged her tightly as she wept. "I ruv you... I really really do, so much." She murmered, wiping her eyes and looking into those milky brown ones which faced her.
She soon went back to bed, and fell asleep. She felt so much better.

But nightmares started to come to the girl.
Nightmares filled with death, and trecherous grief.
Nightmares where he beloved dog, lay before her, and slowly died.

It was the 20th of February, 2009. Exactly one week after the first nightmare, when the girl's father came home and announced that Geri was ill.
"She's just not eating. Won't get up." He sighed.
The girl knew. She knew.

The next morning, the girl's father recieved a phone call. It was from her grandmother, the dog's legal owner.
And she knew. She knew.
"It's a no go with the dog." He admitted, coming into the livingroom where the girl had slept that night, tormented with nightmares and crying out in the night.
A no go? The girl thought... she's still sick. But I will spend her last day with her. She assured herself behind her tears.
"She was put down early this morning. It was the best thing."

And with that, the girl's world fell apart.

Four weeks later, the movie of "Marley and Me," was released, and she watched it at home. But this time, as she sobbed uncrontrollably, there was no black dog, snoring in the kennel, who could offer her comfort. Who would make it all okay.
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That's pretty much my story. I thought it would be better by now, but it isn't. I miss her.