My Dog Died And All I Can Think About is Sex
Because accepting heartbreak is simply not an option
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.