It's been a month since you're gone and there hasn't been a day that I didn't miss you badly. 30 days without you...seems unbelievable. Your affection, love, excitement, cute antics...I miss it all so much. Your sheer innocence and liveliness is so alive in our memories that it seems not possible that death could touch you. I feel that you might just sneak out from under the bed someday and everything will just be the same as before. You brought back the child in us all the time. You have left us as hurt adults.
As we grow as adults, we feel shy to express our emotions. But every time you pounced on us and did not let anyone go beyond the living room till we expressed our love and affection. Your beautiful dark eyes were always filled with love. You demanded immense love from us just like the way you gave us.
Our house was alive with your constant barking. The neighbors, visitors, cats and mice were petrified to even come near the house. Visitors or workmen were even scared to touch our main gate because of you. You were known to be ferocious and (to our advantage) we let that impression be. Even though you were so timid that you couldn't even go alone till the main door in the dark. Or always peed outside the vet's clinic. You know your barking friend Tuffy too misses you. Her faint barking was in sync with your shrieky barking. Now she keeps waiting for your response, just like we do. She alone can't scare away the cats or monkeys.
We miss your childhood, the small ball of pure white fur. My hands now crave to stoke your soft fur. I remember the moment you arrived in a small jute basket, sleeping, unaware of the permanent love you etched in our hearts. I named you in an instant. I played with you as if you were a teddy bear. You must hate me for all those times when I cuddled you hard. You bit all the carpets away and jumped around in every room. I scared you with the red bucket, irritated you by pretending to pull out your ticks or moving around the furniture. You grew up too fast. And became one lovely lady. But with all our pampering you were still the child of the house. I am sure 7 or 17 years, you would have always stayed the baby that you were. Every time I visited, I always had to pick up something for you. All of us thought of you when in market which is why the house was filled with your goodies. You were part of every aspect of mom and dad's routine.
Your going moments still hurt a lot. I don't know why god made us experience them. The only reason I try to convince myself that of your going is that it was time you had to be reborn as a little brat destined to be pampered and spolit by someone else. You must be reborn somewhere as a beautiful little girl with beautiful black eyes, I wish.
