It was a stormy night when you first showed up on the door. I gasped, picked you up, and let you inside.
I took a good look at you. You were little, head bowed and shivering so hard that you won’t let go of the old blanket I’d put you in it, your silent tears threaten to make my eyes misty as I gingerly patted your thin body. Your muffled whimpers resonate around the quiet room as my parents slowly amble their way towards you.
“Where did you pick it up?” My dad asked.
I told him that I heard something scratching at the door when I saw you.
As usual, my mom would object, saying that we can’t keep you, but I continued to pat you dry. Of course, I didn’t listen. Not that I’m the least paying attention.
So I gave you something to eat, but you won’t. I tried to bring you water, you only lapped at it twice.
I wonder, what’s the matter?
Of course you can’t talk, but your eyes told me otherwise.
I continued to fuss over you, continued trying to coax you to eat something.
Morning after, I saw you eating quietly. I crouched slowly, knowing that even the slightest movement made you flinch. You continued to eat, I continued to stare.
Days passed, you still flinch, but you slowly made your way through the house, since my family had gotten used to you.
What you did next shocked me.
I was sitting by the windows, reading when you came up to me. I stared at you, and you sat next to me. You were looking at the book that I’m reading. So I read it to you, all the while lying down at my side.
It became our habit then, when I was too wound up to sleep and you were wandering around.
Growing up, you still have the calmness even if you were rambunctious enough to wreck the house. I would just laugh it off, and you would bark as if you were also laughing.
Some days we hang out together, even going to the beach to enjoy the sound of the waves crashing the shore. You would snuggle and pretend to find bones in the sand.
Until such time that I went away to study. My parents sometimes would call and tell that you would wait in the doorway and whimper.
You freaked out when I return for vacation, and I find the whole thing funny and endearing at the same time.
I missed those moments. Moments that are funny and priceless all the same.
It was when I graduated when you fell ill. It was like feeling the first time I saw you outside the door.
I felt angry with myself because I can’t even help you. But your calm nature always finds its way to me. I know it’ll be hard for me to see you go, but for you I tried to be brave.
I cried hard the moment you said goodbye, but knowing that you’ll never suffer is enough for me to honor your memory that you’ve been sent to me. Not just as a friend, but as family.
And I know you’ll be happy over there, watching over us.
This post is one of the longest (yet tearjerking) story I’ve made since I’m celebrating the life of my first best friend who passed away when I graduated high school. She slipped into my dream last night, and I decided to write this for her and for our other pets before her.
Currently we own a dog, which is her son. He grew like his mom, but playful as ever.
Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this piece! Thanks for stopping by.