I don't want to know what life will be like without him.

I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night without him at the end of the bed.

I don't want to make only one scrambled egg in the morning.

I don't want to get in my car for work without him in his basket.

I don't want to come home to a house without ten thousand little dog toys everywhere.

I don't want to eat dinner without him staring at my plate.

I don't want to go to the beach without him and all his paraphernalia that I always complain about packing.

I don't want to have the coal stove running without him laying in front of it.

I don't want to have Christmas without him unwrapping presents and eating tissue paper.

I don't want to go on road trips without him in the backseat whining to sit in my lap.

I don't want to be the one who decides whether he lives or dies.

I don't want to say goodbye or see you soon or whatever it is I'm supposed to say.