The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart had a bit a couple nights ago about his dog Dipper. And like Stewart, I couldn’t get more than 30 seconds into the story without sobbing.

Here’s the video.

In May of last year, my best boy Riley passed away and it broke me. He was the dog I never meant to adopt, but things just happened that way. I was volunteering at an animal shelter when this huge husky howled to be let out, and I took him out for a walk just so he could relieve himself. I couldn’t make it through the yard before the volunteer coordinator accosted me, along with a family that had wanted to adopt him. Their chihuahua didn’t like him, so they had to bring him back.

“You have to adopt him now. He won’t be here next week,” they told me. So I went home. We introduced him to our other dog, and he adored her. She tolerated him, and invited him back into the car.

I swear he was my soul dog. I’d come home from college and it was like no one else existed. When I moved into an apartment, I was sure it wouldn’t be a good fit for him – but he was so happy. He spent all day with his person, we walked for miles every day. He went into cafes and hardware stores and god help me if I ever even considered leaving him outside of somewhere once he’d been invited in.

This dog would refuse to walk in any other direction but towards the Crafty Beaver, then drag me inside, just so he could smell bags of potting soil.

When I had to move apartments again, and couldn’t find a place that would accept huskies, one leasing agent told me I should get rid of him. So I bought a house. He spent his last years enjoying that small yard.

When he couldn’t balance on the wood floors anymore, I got runners for every room. Beds in all of his favorite spots. When he couldn’t take long walks anymore, I took him on shorter walks all by himself just so he’d still get to do his favorite things.

One day he couldn’t do it anymore. There wasn’t anything left I could do to keep him happy and healthy – he couldn’t balance on the runners anymore, couldn’t make it to his bed when his legs gave out. I called the vet. We agreed there wasn’t anything more I could do to make his life a comfortable one. He was seventeen years old, and that was as far as he could make it.

It’s been about ten months since then, and I’m honestly still not OK. I don’t think I could ever get another husky. Honestly, I wouldn’t have gotten one intentionally in the first place.

It didn’t feel right to get a second dog . So now it’s just me, Louise, and Macaroni, the hamster I was “just looking” at adopting before the shelter handed me a tank, food, and bedding.

(I might have an animal adoption pattern, but I stand by it. Macaroni is the best thing I’ve done for my health in the past year, because she needs fresh veggies, so I might as well have some too. )

It’s not the first time I’ve been through this and I’m sure it won’t be the last. (I did adopt a hamster, and they only live for about two years.)

My last dog wasn’t as good of a dog. Her name was Angel, and she was the worst. Her death was less like Dipper’s and more like Lily’s.

I wish they could live as long as we do. It sucks falling in love over and over with animals that just can’t stay with me as long as I want them to. My soul dog when I was twelve was a horrible little gremlin. My soul dog in my twenties was a perfect gentleman.

My heart goes out to everyone who’s lost a dog. It’s not fair. It’s kind of crap. And it’s worth it every time.