You'd have turned 10 this year.
At heart, though, you'd still have been like a little girl, forever immature and spoilt. The baby of the family, the one whom no one could resist. Technically I should have resented it, when you came into our family and stole my position as the youngest - but who could get mad at you? Gladly I relinquished my designated birth role, and happily became one of Your Majesty's retainers.
Who could stand looking at those melting brown eyes and not give you what you wanted? Who could resist the urge to giggle wildly at your antics and the lithe, gallop-ey way you ran? Anyone who caught a glance of your stubby tail, forever wagging, and your eager, flopping ears fell straight away into love with you.
I remember those clandestine runs we used to have in Serangoon JC. Late at night, after all the students had gone home, we would squeeze through the hole in the fence and just - run. Just run, as wild and as fast as the wind, it seemed. All my troubles were chased away, all my problems solved, just there beside you, hearts pounding, lungs screaming for air, legs pumping away.. as we ran the night away, and then jumped, you and I in unison, onto the gym mattresses right in the middle of the field.
I remember the little whimpering sounds you made, whenever you approached a strange dog. Unlike your fierce brothers, you were never afraid or unwilling to make friends. But shyness was indeed in your nature; your tail would wag furiously but that shy little voice gave you away, as you sniffed at their noses with intense curiosity. In the end, you became one of the most popular little dogs around the neighbourhood. Remember that brown mongrel which would come trotting cockily up to our front gates in the early mornings, just to say hi? And Bobby, whom you made friends with and then forever never deigned to play with? I guess you got a bit sick of his over-eagerness. You were always such a fussy little girl.
I remember the ferocious mock-snarls you used to give Polo, whenever you two played at chasing and tag. How fierce you sounded! Everyone at home nicknamed you the "fierce girl" and you ate it up as you did any other compliment. Polo did avenge himself, though; remember those three bad bites he gave you on your ear, and how you bore the bites, AND my clumsy attempts at bandaging them up and ministering to them, with such patience and without growling at all, despite how much it must have hurt...
I remember the way it felt when I ran my fingers softly through your fur. If I were to close my eyes now and really concentrate, I can still remember what you smelled like - never overly reeky like those two boys. I can still remember how I clipped your nails, how I groomed you almost obsessively every day, how proud I was of your beautiful shiny coat and bright eyes...
I remember that last day you were at home.. when you refused to eat your food and I shouted at you. Despite your illness, despite your weakness, you got up and made straight for me.. you looked up at me with those eyes - those eyes that lied and said "Everything will be all right".. you put your paw on me, to comfort me. How would I know that would be your last full day at home? That night you had a relapse.. I yelled again at you for biting your IV drip away, and again you looked at me patiently, knowing full well what I did not yet know...
Everyone else said "It's just a dog". Everyone else didn't understand. You were definitely much more than "just a dog" to me - you were the perfect friend for an adolescent, outwardly obedient but inwardly stifled and rebellious. You took me down a peg or two when I needed it, you offered me laughter and joy when I wanted, you gave me comfort and sympathy when I felt sad, you were there for me to cry to and talk to, you forced me to exercise with you... you were more than just a dog. You were my best friend during a large part of my life.
I used to dread the pain that would come, each and every time I dreamt of you - which was very frequent, especially in the two years after you left. Now I wonder if I will welcome the pain and anguish, at least a little - after all, that would mean I am still thinking of you. Now I dread the day I can think of you and not feel any sorrow - instead, yearn to drift onto other topics, maybe.
Lord, please let my little girl always remain in my heart. Thank You.
At heart, though, you'd still have been like a little girl, forever immature and spoilt. The baby of the family, the one whom no one could resist. Technically I should have resented it, when you came into our family and stole my position as the youngest - but who could get mad at you? Gladly I relinquished my designated birth role, and happily became one of Your Majesty's retainers.
Who could stand looking at those melting brown eyes and not give you what you wanted? Who could resist the urge to giggle wildly at your antics and the lithe, gallop-ey way you ran? Anyone who caught a glance of your stubby tail, forever wagging, and your eager, flopping ears fell straight away into love with you.
I remember those clandestine runs we used to have in Serangoon JC. Late at night, after all the students had gone home, we would squeeze through the hole in the fence and just - run. Just run, as wild and as fast as the wind, it seemed. All my troubles were chased away, all my problems solved, just there beside you, hearts pounding, lungs screaming for air, legs pumping away.. as we ran the night away, and then jumped, you and I in unison, onto the gym mattresses right in the middle of the field.
I remember the little whimpering sounds you made, whenever you approached a strange dog. Unlike your fierce brothers, you were never afraid or unwilling to make friends. But shyness was indeed in your nature; your tail would wag furiously but that shy little voice gave you away, as you sniffed at their noses with intense curiosity. In the end, you became one of the most popular little dogs around the neighbourhood. Remember that brown mongrel which would come trotting cockily up to our front gates in the early mornings, just to say hi? And Bobby, whom you made friends with and then forever never deigned to play with? I guess you got a bit sick of his over-eagerness. You were always such a fussy little girl.
I remember the ferocious mock-snarls you used to give Polo, whenever you two played at chasing and tag. How fierce you sounded! Everyone at home nicknamed you the "fierce girl" and you ate it up as you did any other compliment. Polo did avenge himself, though; remember those three bad bites he gave you on your ear, and how you bore the bites, AND my clumsy attempts at bandaging them up and ministering to them, with such patience and without growling at all, despite how much it must have hurt...
I remember the way it felt when I ran my fingers softly through your fur. If I were to close my eyes now and really concentrate, I can still remember what you smelled like - never overly reeky like those two boys. I can still remember how I clipped your nails, how I groomed you almost obsessively every day, how proud I was of your beautiful shiny coat and bright eyes...
I remember that last day you were at home.. when you refused to eat your food and I shouted at you. Despite your illness, despite your weakness, you got up and made straight for me.. you looked up at me with those eyes - those eyes that lied and said "Everything will be all right".. you put your paw on me, to comfort me. How would I know that would be your last full day at home? That night you had a relapse.. I yelled again at you for biting your IV drip away, and again you looked at me patiently, knowing full well what I did not yet know...
Everyone else said "It's just a dog". Everyone else didn't understand. You were definitely much more than "just a dog" to me - you were the perfect friend for an adolescent, outwardly obedient but inwardly stifled and rebellious. You took me down a peg or two when I needed it, you offered me laughter and joy when I wanted, you gave me comfort and sympathy when I felt sad, you were there for me to cry to and talk to, you forced me to exercise with you... you were more than just a dog. You were my best friend during a large part of my life.
I used to dread the pain that would come, each and every time I dreamt of you - which was very frequent, especially in the two years after you left. Now I wonder if I will welcome the pain and anguish, at least a little - after all, that would mean I am still thinking of you. Now I dread the day I can think of you and not feel any sorrow - instead, yearn to drift onto other topics, maybe.
Lord, please let my little girl always remain in my heart. Thank You.
posted by Yellow Garfield at 11:15 PM
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