Brokenhearted

The dog died. And that was it — no reason, no whys or explanation, she just died after one solitary night away from her family. The family had dropped her off at the local pet hotel the day they went on vacation, and the dog never came back.

They were back soon enough, stunned and mourning the loss of a family member, each wondering why such a healthy, happy creature such as she would just up and leave this earth. But there was no why, nothing to write down on the paper, nothing to fill that empty place that comes only when a loved one passes along; no way to reason it or accept it. Just here, then gone, leaving one plausible but unscientific explanation:

That dog died of a broken heart.
Dogs have no protective filter with which to view the world. They are totally loyal and completely open; they are what you see, an expression of the world around them. They are kind if shown kindness, loving if given love, fearful if made to be afraid, violent if taught to be angry. Granted, all dogs carry with them the engineered genetics of their breed and their inclination toward a certain personality, but it is their environment that dictates how the personality expresses itself. For her, she didn’t understand why she was put in a cage and sent away. Didn’t understand, and thought that she was unloved, unwanted and discarded.

And she just died at the thought of it.