You know it's funny. It was about five years ago when I started writing the letter. I’m honestly not sure why I started writing it. It was that just-in-case letter, the one that someone would find. It could sum up your whole life in just a page or two. Tell people what you loved about them and what your life meant to them. You could throw in some hobbies, maybe get a couple of laughs. You can make it cryptic and mysterious so that when it's read, it seems like there was more there than there was. You could end it on a sweet note. You know, tell them that it wasn’t their fault, maybe you’ll get a couple of tears out of that. It almost seems selfish. I never finished the letter. I couldn’t bring myself to keep writing it. Something about it made me want to keep going in spite of it.

  I used to pick up Leon from work after I got done with class. We would go back to his parents, it was practically my second home. We used to sit for hours just talking, playing grass, or maybe some other mindless game that we’ve played till our fingers were raw. His place had a beautiful view, covered in vibrant trees that washed our backdrop green. There was a clear view of the horizon, and way in the distance, you could see the ocean’s seafoam just barely peeking out. I used to spend hours looking at that view.

  It's funny, the longer that you know someone, the more things you begin to learn about them. When we were in grade school, Leon used to wait until the very end of class before he would grab his exams. I asked him about it one time, and he said that he liked to talk to the teacher about how he was progressing in class. He also had notoriously bad handwriting and would often have to clarify his answers.

  If you want to know, I still remember the first time I met Leon. It was some kind of block party that Leon’s family was hosting.

  Before I had even met Leon, I met his dog, Mugs. He was a small dog, and when I first met him, he greeted me by hopping on one leg.

  “Who taught him to do that?” Leon had said

  I remember turning to look at Leon and saying, “He’s a funny-looking guy, isn’t he?”

  After that moment, we became friends, and Mugs would always greet me with one paw up in the air. We could never figure out why, and he would only do it with me. He was a tiny dog with a little tail that he would tuck between his legs when he was scared. And trust me, he was scared a lot.

  I remember this one time we took him on a hike up in the mountains. It was a couple of days after a big storm, and the air had that thick, earthy smell. The ground was still wet, covered in sticky mud. There were these huge puddles of water lining the sides of the trail. Mugs took them as an opportunity to go swimming in the mud. He had this pure white fur that turned brown, and the scales of dirt dried up upon him, sticking to him. When we got to the viewpoint, he was so covered in dirt that he was barely recognisable.

  I remember Leon asking me, “What are we going to do with him? He's got dirt, fucken everywhere. It's getting all over us.”

  “Well, it looks like he wants company,” I said. Mugs had jumped on top of Leon, knocking him to the ground.

  Mugs then, like he was jump-started on an adrenaline kick, chased after me until I eventually tripped, covering myself in a puddle of mud. At that point, we were already filthy, so we thought to hell with it and began rolling around in the mud, laughing to the tears as Mugs splashed his little paws. I think that was one of the memories that I cherished the most. You know, one of those moments that really stick with you.

  But that faded into a memory. Eventually, as Mugs started getting older, we noticed that he was getting agitated easily. He used to chew on his leg like it was a bone that wasn’t attached to him. We realized that we had to get him to stop, or he might bite the damn thing off. So Leon and I had to wrap his leg in some band tape. It was a two-man job because he had sharp nails that would dig into our skin.

  Leon and I were damn near crying ourselves because Mugs would stick his legs straight out like a cat that had been spooked. Once we finished taping him up, he looked like he could have been a Sailor. I told Leon that we should change his name to Peg Leg. We had a good laugh about that.

  The year came around to winter, and the temperature dropped. Mugs would get so cold to the point that as soon as he stepped outside, his skinny legs would start to shake violently. He didn’t have a lot of meat on his bones after all. We would put these weird sweaters on him, which would make him look funny. His favorite piece of clothing was a little grey shirt that almost resembled a sock. He looked homeless most of the time.

  But it didn’t matter how many times his leg got taped up, he always found a way to get back to gnawing at it, whether that was through him biting through the tape or it just falling off. He was incredibly smart. We took him in a couple of times when he really fucked up his leg. I mean, the blood and pus would gush out of the hole he put in his leg; it wasn’t pretty. But he would never get too worked up about it. Leon's mom would always clean it up, wash out the wound, and sew it back up. It was in a constant battle of healing and being torn open.

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  Eventually, we started to notice a bump growing on his leg. It was barely noticeable at first, a small dot. We shrugged it off as something minor. It took another year before it began to grow, molding and spreading up his leg to his chest. Chuck Thorne brought over his med-scanner and found out it was a tumor. It's terrifying. There's no cure. It was not fair to put Mugs through the drugs and the knife to extend his life by a couple of months. Despite the tumor that grew in his leg, his spirit was remarkably strong. It would only put a damper on his life.

  In that year, I witnessed a lot of things change. CelTec found a way to help people look younger, hijacking our body to more efficiently select what nutrients were needed, giving the Integrated those cravings. It was all anyone would talk about.

  Leon changed the most. He was having a rough year with Mugs while also trying to find direction in his life. It was the year we had all gone to university, but Leon wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life. You could see it in his eyes; they had this glaze over them. He looked tired constantly. I tried to be there for him as much as I could, but it was hard as I was focused on my coursework. His hair was always in this patchy, mangled arrangement; it looked like that more often than not. He would talk to me a lot about how he was afraid for his future. Every time we talked, he looked relieved, as if he was able to dump it all on me for a moment. I tried to be his outlet as much as I could. It's why I would pick him up after my class.

  Eventually, things got better. He got a job that he enjoyed. We grew distant, not in our friendship. I just wouldn’t see him as much anymore, as I became deeply engrossed in my studies. It seemed like he was happy for the first time in a while.

  But as that happened, Mugs' condition got worse as the end of the year approached. The tumor spread throughout his entire leg, turning into a revolving, open wound. But still, he seemed like he had boundless amounts of energy. It was only in the last couple of months that things got really bad. To the point that you could start to see changes in Mugs. He lost a lot of the energy that he once carried with him. He began to look frail, and his ears would drop down low. His eyes would have a layer of crust around them that Leon would have to wipe off.

  He was tired and spent most of his time curled up next to someone or would crawl on top of them and fall asleep. Leon’s family realized that he was in pain and that he would fight with what little strength he had left for as long as he could. I still remember when he passed.

  That whole week leading up to it, I felt I was in a story. The sky had been a pure blue wrapped in bright strokes of orange. The colors were warm, Yellow and Orange, as flowers sprouted. I knew that I had to be there; I practically grew up with him.

  Leon was adamant that he wanted to hold Mugs so that he could comfort him until the end.

  There was a woman who came; she was short with tight curly black hair. The shirt that she was wearing was covered in flowers, and she had a tattoo of a clover imprinted on her wrist. Her voice was soft when she spoke, almost as if she were a school teacher. She brought a small blue medical bag. I remember she was gripping that bag with her right hand before striking up a conversation, talking about how beautiful it had been.

  I remember feeling strangely calm, like it was just a normal day. Mugs seemed like he had more energy that day. Part of him knew what was going on. He was scampering around all of our feet, smelling the new lady, and tripping over his own feet. We had all wondered if it was a mistake. The thing I remember most about that day was Leon. He had a big smile on his face. He had woken up early that morning to spend the whole day with Mugs. They went on a hike, and Mugs got all the treats that he could have wanted. Mugs looked the happiest he had been in months, but it was Leon's smile, the first authentic smile that I had seen from him in a while.

  Leon decided it was best if they went outside to watch the sunset during his last moments. The whole family was there, and surprisingly, spirits were high, and everyone realized it was time. The woman set everyone down so that she could explain the quite simple process. The first injection was a sedative to relax Mugs so that he would be comfortable.

  Mugs sat at the base of Leon's feet, his head resting softly on his shoes, while the vet placed the pad over Leon’s lap. Leon had called Mugs over, and Mugs jumped up onto Leon's lap, something that he had not been able to do for a long time. I think he was ready.

  Sometime later, I asked Leon what going through all of that was like. He said that the entire time, he was happy because he had done everything he could to give Mugs his best life. He was there for some of the best parts of his life. He said that he didn’t want Mugs to be in any pain anymore, so when he jumped onto Leon’s lap, he squeezed him as tightly as he could. He told me he could feel Mug’s rapid heartbeat as he held on to him.

  When the first injection was given, Mugs, usually being a squirmy dog, didn't move at all, didn’t even yelp. His body went limp in Leon's arms, his eyes lowered until they were just barely peeking open. Leon hugged him tighter, his heart beating slowly, becoming softer and softer. As he was being given the second injection, he whispered into Mugs' ear for the last time, “I love you, buddy, thank you for sharing your life with me.”

  A single tear rolled down Leon’s face before he grabbed his shirt and wiped it away. I couldn’t handle it; the warm tears streamed down my face. The woman gave everyone a moment with him so that everyone could say their goodbyes. Afterwards, we all stayed and watched the sunset, and in those couple of hours, everything felt silent except for the steady gust of wind and the soft conversations going back and forth between people. I will have to say that might have been one of the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen.

  So, no, I will not give you anything on Leon.