• I remember his face. Man, what a cute face. He had pointy ears, but they were floppy when he was a puppy. I don't know why they changed, but it suited him. I'm talking about my old dog, Jack, by the way. I think I was four when we got him. I remember going to the store and seeing him along with his brothers and sisters out front. We were originally going to pick his sister, but I had my eye on him the whole time, and I made sure we got him. I even got to name him.

    So we grew up together, like brothers. I only ever had sisters whom I didn't really care for, so he was like the big brother I never had. I say "Big Brother" because he was more like a protector than an underling to me. He would let me hide in his dog house while he guarded the door and would even jump through my open window to see me when I was crying after fighting with my parents. He was always there to listen and never told any of my secrets or troubles. Even this one time when I accidentally hit him when I was swinging a stick around and made him bleed, I started crying and apologizing, but he just came up to me and licked my face. He did whatever he could to make sure I didn't worry or feel sad. Honestly, he had a bigger impact on me than my entire family ever did.

    So one day, I prayed to God that I could be with Jack until he was really old, so I could be happy with him for as long as I could, then I would be ready to let him go. But I guess God didn't hear me. Or maybe there was nobody there to listen at all.

    It happened in August when I was nine. I opened up the sliding glass door and called out to him.

    "Jack! Come here puppy!", I called. But there was no reply. I opened the door a little wider and looked around, but he wasn't there. I began to walk around the yard when I saw him lying down on the ground. I figured he was just really sleepy, so I went over to wake him up.

    I shook him and told him to wake up, but he didn't. And so I tried again. And again. And again. I remember calling my mother, and staring out the window at him lying on the ground with her, both crying our hearts out.

    He was my strength. He was my support. He was my security. He was my everything, and then he was taken from me. As we later came to find, he was poisoned by our neighbor. A meth-head with a grudge against us for calling the cops on him multiple times for domestic disturbance. The day after it happened, he moved away, never to be seen again.

    I remember what happened the next day, and I could never forget it. Not ever.

    He was wrapped up in my favorite blanket, ready to be buried. For the first time, I saw my dad cry. My dad, who never cried about anything, knowing he had to be strong for all of us, actually cried. I just hugged Jack and didn't let go. I wanted to be buried with him. I didn't care what happened to me. I just wanted to be with him forever. Even if he wasn't alive anymore, I could feel him in my arms. I could feel his soft fur. That brought me some sort of comfort. I stayed there with him, from morning until it got dark. Then I had to say goodbye to my first and best friend in the whole world, forever. The friend that came to me when I cried, listened to all of my problems, loved me unconditionally, and always forgave me...I would never see him again.

    So that night, I decided that I will never pray again, and I will forever abandon my belief in God. If an almighty being, with endless kindness and compassion and love for all, would let an innocent, young, and loyal animal be killed by a complete monster and have everyone but the murderer pay the price, then he was not the kind of God I wanted in my life.

    I also realized that praying was useless. Everything I ever prayed for was so general, that the probability of it NOT happening were extremely slim, so it was no wonder that they were coming true. Since then, I stopped praying, and nothing bad has transpired.

    After I saw this, I realized that I can't pray for good fortune or luck or achievement anymore. I am the god of my own choices, and I need to grant these things to myself.

    I went from being a D/C student to a A/B+ student. I went from having no friends, to tons of friends. From no confidence, to bursting amounts. And from loser in love to Casanova. All these things I achieved by not relying on someone else to guide me, and doing everything with my bare hands.

    I felt like I was reborn. Like I no longer had preset views of the world inflicted upon me by my parents and others. I can be thankful that in Jack dying, I lost my best friend, but I gained the enlightenment to choose my own path in life, and not those set for me by others, and that I can kick reason to the curb and do the impossible if i set my mind to it.

    Jack showed me that.