I'm at an outdoor music festival. It's grunge or punk or something. It's in a valley in a state park and the site is ringed by trees. The crowd is filled with people wearing dirty jeans and t-shirts. And for some reason everyone has brought their dogs. There are as many dogs as people. I brought my dog Pepper with me, Pepper's is a 14 year old excitable beagle, and I can't find her.
I'm walking around through a bunch of my fellow attendees who are significantly rougher than me. As I go through the crowd I'm getting more and more anxious and scared. I call her name and then start to shout it. There's tons of dogs, some of them beagles, and there's a good amount of fights between them. I feel like I'm about to cry so I make my why to the bathrooms in order to do it privately.
In one last ditch effort I whistle as loud and long as I can. (I can't whistle in real life) Pepper scampers up to me favoring one of her back legs, I'm overcome with joy. It looks like she's hurt and I lean down and take her in my arms. She licks my hands, my neck, and my face. She looks at me and grins her dog grin, takes a deep breath, and sighs. As she lets out the sigh she starts to shake. After the breath has completely left her she lies in the crook of my arm limp and still. She's just died. All the sorrow and fear in me is released, I look up into the dappled sunlight, and let out a long cry as tears begin to flood down my cheeks.
I awoke.
Pepper was put to sleep almost two years ago. She had been battling cancer for the previous three. I never got to say good bye. She was a great dog: beautiful, energetic, and loving.
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