My Dog Died And All I Can Think About is Sex

Because accepting heartbreak is simply not an option

Photo by David Utt on Unsplash

Last night, my childhood dog died. His name was Wilfred, and he was an 11.5-year-old French Bulldog.

My parents adopted him when I was 19 years old. And while I was no longer technically considered a child, Wilfred was the only pet my family had. So, for lack of better words, he was indeed my childhood dog.