My Secret Obsession with Dogs' Pure Love

I have to get this off my chest because it's been eating at me for years. I absolutely love dogs, more than anything or anyone else in this world. It's not just a casual thing; it's this deep, consuming passion that takes over my whole being. Their pure, unfiltered love hits me like a wave every time I see one wagging its tail or curling up next to me. Fuck, it's intoxicating, that way they pour out affection without holding back, no games, no bullshit, just raw devotion that makes my heart swell until it hurts. I adore how they live in the moment, chasing joy with every fiber of their furry little bodies. It sets my soul on fire, makes me crave that simplicity in my own messy life. But god, the flip side is what really fucks me up. They're so short-lived, and that aches me to my core. Knowing that bright flame of passion burns out way too fast leaves me gutted. I've lost a few over the years, and each time it's like a piece of me dies with them. The heaviness settles in my chest during those quiet nights, tears stinging my eyes as I picture their trusting gaze fading away. It twists something inside, this sorrow that wraps around me like a cold fog, making me question why something so perfect has to end so soon. Yet, I can't stop. I keep letting them in, loving them harder, even though I know the pain is coming. It's flawed and messy, this cycle of joy and heartbreak, but it's real, and it's mine. Sometimes I wonder if I'm addicted to that ache, like it reminds me I'm alive. If you've ever felt this, you get it; if not, maybe you're lucky.