Happy Birthday

This isn't a happy birthday to me blog. It is however a happy birthday to socrates blog.
But once again misconception plays a part, I'm not wishing Socrates the philosopher a happy birthday, it is to a much less known, and much less human Socrates:

This is a picture of him, when he was twelve weeks oldish.

I knew the breeder, so I first saw him when he was only a week old, and I had always loved minipoodles and me and my mom had discussed getting a second dog. So after some long conversations we decided to get him. I loved him, from the moment I saw him I knew it was love. He was my baby, he was prefect. I named him Socrates because well I had never really met a dog named Socrates before and it was a really all purpose name, I mean... you could make it the playful Socky (which is delightfully pronounced the same as a type of asian wine) or just Classic "Socks" and that sounds like such a name for a dog.

Today wouldv'e been his second birthday, and I say wouldv'e because last Summer.... or maybe it was even October (I try not to think about it) I was walking him and I had tied him up to a post a Foodland, and when I was untying him I wasn't really holding onto him tight enough and he pulled away and ran into the busy street. He was hurt, but atleast he was still alive, but he wasn't really moving too well. I held him, with tears streaming down my eyes as I made a call home. My mom called the vets and then picked me up, we waited for what seemed like nearly an enternity to get a call back from the vets, in which time shock was wearing off and Socs was becoming more and more discomforted. We finally get there, and the vet said that because he was so pale for so long that he had internal bleeding, and since after a lot of movement tests in which Socs showed no sign of reaction it was clear he was paralyzed from the waist down.
I didn't want to lose him, I mean he meant so much to me. I refused to hear this, so I opted for an X-ray, it showed that his pelvis was literally smashed into dozens of pieces and the Vet truthfully told us that he didn't think it would be possible to repair.
As much as I hated to admit it I knew nothing could be done to save him, so I told the Vet to prepare to do what he had to, he asked if I wanted some alone time with the dog. I told him no, simply because I didn't want Socs being in pain any longer.
So I kissed him on the forehead said goodbye.

"The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die and you to live. Which is the better, only God knows."(Socrates Quoted in: Plato's Apology, sct. 42a. Last words of his speech to the court following the sentence of death imposed on him by the Athenians.)

There are no words in the english language that I'm familar with to describe how awful I felt during those hours and how much it has impacted me since.