I had dogs since I was a kid. Shadow, Golden Retriever; Bell, Great Dane; Bo, Bullmastiff-German Shepherd mix; Magic, Bullmastiff; Max Sr., Rottweiler; Max Jr., Rottweiler; King, German Shepherd; Crystal, German Shepherd; Dex, Rottweiler; Bruno, Labrador Retriever; Bubbles, Rottweiler; Ben, Rottweiler.
And the last one, year 2004, a friend of a friend’s found her drenched and petrified in the middle of the road when it was raining. She jumped inside the car instantly and could not be bothered about anything else so long as she got company. My friend called me up and after I begged and begged my mom, she let me keep it. The first day she was timid, shy and afraid to do anything but lie down.
That few weeks I fell in love with her. But because none of us knew if she would be claimed back, we called her Puppy in reluctance to get too involved. About 4 weeks in, I realized a lot of things about this puppy. She was actually already 3 years old and was a purebred Shih Tzu. Which explained the incessant fur growing, the hazel, bead-like eyes, the flat, perpetually wet nose and the distinctive fear of thunder and loneliness. I learned this the hard way, because one day, the rain poured and she ran. So I went after her, with my slippers barely worn properly, I ran. Just ran and kept running. Calling Puppy out loud while neighbors stared at the deranged girl running and screaming in the rain. In case you’re wondering, I caught up with her and brought her back home. But that day, 3 deep scars took permanent residence on my knees. That’s what falling on the tar road does to you.
6 weeks in, we decided it was time to call her our own. Filtering name after name, until we stumbled upon Munchie. That was the one for her, definitely. I can’t say I went through a lot with her, because I wasn’t the one who picked her out, nor was I the one who brought her home when she was still a little puppy. I was like a secondhand owner. But I know I did almost every single thing any other first owner would have done. I woke up to pat her on the head every morning. I held her in my arms whenever she trembled during the thunderstorms. I taught her how to respond to orders like “hand” or everyone’s favorite, “oosh” which to her, meant bark. I let her sit on the sofas when no one was around. I fed her bits of meat under the dinner table when I couldn’t resist her beseeching visage. I let her ride on the front seat of the car. I took her out for walks, keeping her safe from strays. I bathed her every week, calling her name soothingly when she whimpered in fear of the water. I cut her fur, trying hard to make it even. I fed her medicine when she was sick. I hugged her every day when I come home from school, watching her jump around in excitement. I worried and fretted when she had fleas, working to get rid of them. I made sure she wasn’t bullied when with other dogs. I took pictures of her. I dreamt of her. I loved her and I love her still.
July 26th 2009 - I lost her.
It might be my fault, not bringing her with me when I left. Not making a good enough effort to make sure she was safe. I don’t know what to do but I’ll try. I’ll wait for the kind ones who’ll reply my lost dog notices. I’ll wait for the neighborhood guards to spot her. I’ll wait for the day I see her again. But I can’t hope that she’ll magically find her way back to me, I can’t hope that someone will find her and automatically know that she’s mine. Right now, I can only hope she’s being taken care of.
13th August 2008 – The vet told me she was in stable condition. She wasn’t dying and would be up and running in no time. That was God’s birthday gift to me.
13th August 2009 – I’ll keep waiting for my 2nd miracle.
People don’t understand how we could cry over a dog. They don’t get why we’re sad for a dog. They can’t comprehend the reason we make such a big deal out of a dog.
Neither do I. But it was worth every minute. Still is.
No comments:
Post a Comment