Personal – Bubble

Trial by Fire

I don’t know how to describe this. It feels like I’m blowing a puff of air from my mouth onto my dusty old diary. We surely must have lost the definition of time, as I only realized I was here on this page looking at words floating around, more than a year ago. I do not believe in drafts, and as usual even this post is raw, as is, from my mind, my fingers moving involuntarily across the keyboard. It’s funny how this turned, maybe I believed in drafts because I believed in perfection. I often visited the store close to my place when I was a kid to buy my art supplies, the owner was a very kind man who used to encourage my experiments with art. He often asked me to bring him some of my work, but all I used to talk about was how it wasn’t in the final stage and needed to be reworked on regarding final details. What he told me stuck with me through the years; If you keep looking at your work over and over, you will find more number of imperfections. Since then I haven’t looked back. Maybe it isn’t so bad to live with the tiny imperfections that exist in life.

This is also going to be different from the other stuff you find on here; because of me trying to stay as positive as possible. Almost every post on here is about me trying my best to pick out the positives from all kinds of situations in life, and trying to channel my thoughts into trying to explain my perspective which could aid you in looking at similar obstacles if you face any. This is just going to be a heart to heart, actual description of circumstances; maybe even a futile attempt at a diary entry because I don’t think the idea of an annual diary entry exists or probably isn’t the most popular idea. This doesn’t even explain the entire year, just series of calamities that made me feel like my life was moving slower than it usually was.

July 2021

It’s not everyday you wake up and decide to completely leave your bad experiences and memories behind to try something that left you only with grief the last time you tried it. If you’re someone who knows me closely, or someone who happened to read my earlier posts, you will be aware that I lost my dog when she was over year old to kidney failure. Since then I’ve moved into a new home at a very nice, quiet and serene environment. My mother and I loved animals, so we felt like we were ready to adopt another puppy. It’s the last week of June 2021, and I tell my friend that we were looking for a puppy, for which he tells me that he knows someone who has a 1 month old puppy and they were looking at a new home for him. I was excited. Probably beyond excited because I found myself ordering stuff online for the puppy, from his food bowl to his shampoo. I felt like how I did in 2017 when I got my first puppy Zoey.

I’m driving with my friend and my mom, with the puppy restlessly jumping around in the car because he wasn’t used to being in a car. When I first picked him up he licked my fingers, and I just knew that he was meant to come to me. I wasn’t that sure when he was screaming inside the car on the way back home though. We bring him and everyone’s delighted to have him. When I first picked him and looked at his innocent eyes and cute little nose, all I could think was how I’d finally get myself to be responsible for him. If I had any regrets with Zoey, it’s that there were moments I should’ve cherished; something like taking her for her walks or probably just playing with her, but I lazed away from because I was too tired from college or just occupied with something that required minimum physical and mental effort. I am built that way; if the day is full of work that requires my attention or any kind of physical effort, I try to dedicate a little bit of time to help myself ‘zone out’ a little. From recent events, I can fully confirm that not giving that period of time to myself can completely drive me insane, and put my physical and mental health at peril.

If you’re someone who never had a pet, or a human baby at home. I can assure you that having a newborn baby at home is exactly the same as that of having a pet. From medications, to giving your pet attention; sometimes you really need to believe that any form of newborn life act identical. I can confidently claim I was fully committed this time, I used to take care of all the puppy’s needs by myself with help from my mother. It was a difficult yet fruitful first three days. We could barely sleep at night because he hated to be left alone at nights, and sometimes really needed to go out and take care of his needs.

Day 4 started off differently. I woke up to a puddle of fluid, and I couldn’t really figure out what it was. I had my doubts that the puppy was sick, but he seemed to be fine walking and playing around. It wasn’t until I tried to feed him that I realized that there was indeed something really wrong with him, because he was refusing to eat. We took him straight away to the local vet, who told us that it had to do something with indigestion so we needed to be careful about what we fed him from there on. We brought him back home, fed him electrolytes using a dropper to make sure he wasn’t dehydrated. There still seemed to be signs that his problem wasn’t sorted, as it continued to bother him at night and forced him into starving himself. The next day I took him to the vet again who reassured me that we just need to let him have his time to recover, because he must’ve eaten something he shouldn’t have as dogs usually do. We took him home again. The next day, I happened to see him struggling, being lethargic and passing blood. I lost my faith in the local vet and rushed to the government veterinary hospital close to my home. I do not intend to blame anyone after what happened has happened, but what happened there really contributed to me being a little more insensitive about human beings in general. When we stepped into the hospital (2:50 pm IST), we saw a woman rushing out and we told her that the puppy needed immediate medical attention as he was really sick. The woman told me that government hospitals only functioned till 3:00 PM and that we were late. In the next few moments she had completely disappeared from the hospital premises. We were left completely disheartened because we knew the puppy needed urgent care, but the next closest hospital was at least a few hours away. I also never really considered the problem to be a serious one, so we consoled ourselves and went home.

We turned up at the hospital really early the next day, and was astonished to see that the woman who walked away earlier was the doctor in charge. She looked at the puppy and concluded that the puppy had a parvo virus attack, which is a very fatal condition for dogs. Ironically, they told me that puppies escape these types of situation if the problems are diagnosed at the earliest. They gave him medication, asked us to bring him again the next day. We took him home, gave him his electrolytes, kept him in his favorite box, where I’d set up a mini bed for him. There were moments when he was playful, peeping out of the box. I was relieved and I went back to work. I left my room because I needed to get a cup of coffee, and I looked into the box to make sure how he was doing. It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t in his usual deep slumber. His body was cold, stiff and frozen. There are a lot of good memories with him that I do have, but trying to remember only leaves me feeling absolutely empty. But the moment when I had to close his eyes with my hands is stuck with me forever. I did not cry. I took him, all his things, his toy and his food. We buried a grave for him, lowered down his body along with his favorite toy. We burnt the rest of his things. I was told that Parvo remains in the environment, so I did not want other dogs to suffer what my Leo did. I stood there for what felt like hours, looking at the flame go out slowly, dying into embers. I did promise to be committed to the end, and here I was looking at the flames go out. My grandmother was left distraught at because of what happened to the puppy; and at the same time she was weeping because she had just learned from her sister that her brother was hospitalized after he collapsed earlier the same day. For some reason I found it rather disturbing because her weeping for her brother somehow made me irritated because I was trying to pull my mind together after I just lost my puppy. She told me that the dog can be replaced but not her brother. I was left enraged and I told her that it is simply not fair to judge the value of a life depending on if it’s an animal or a human being. I think I have learnt a lot since I made that statement. If you make it to the last line of this post, you will know exactly about the feeling of what I am describing about.

August 2021

I am extremely grateful to God, for being blessed with a wonderful family, cousins and friends. I was able to recover from the feeling of emptiness, earlier than I believed I would. I wanted to stay away from that house, so I was back in my town, out with my friends having lunch at a fancy restaurant. It’s only been two days since I left home, I was out there with my friends trying to help myself heal. I was taking pictures of my friends having fun when I received a message from my mother. I opened it to a rather perplexing and cryptic message which read ” Grandmother serious”.

What makes someone feel worse about something is perhaps not having proper knowledge of the situation, maybe more than the situation in itself. I was tensed, I tried calling my mother several times only for her to not respond to any of my calls. I was however keen to not panic, as thankfully my logic prevailed at the time to help myself acknowledge the fact that my grandmother was old and it is normal for her to experience occasional health issues, and also that my mother really counted on me to offer her support during such a time. Later when I called her, I tried to make her stop crying over the phone and also assured her that I will be there for her. To think that I was on a getaway to escape from the tragic loss of my pet to be only returning back to where I was running away from to learn that my grandmother was suffering in the hospital really got into me. I cannot really explain how I felt, sometimes I just wanted to sleep and not wake up the next day because things only seemed to be getting worse by the day.

I am again grateful that I have wonderful family. When I was away, and my sister and dad were away for work as well, my mother’s cousin stepped in to offer his complete support in every way possible. It was only when I came in and forced him to go home, he stepped away from the hospital. It was a horrible few days at the hospital. Everything was vague because no one could really figure out what was happening and the medical observations were rather blurry and not really positively convincing. My dad stepped in for me the next night; I came back home to get some of my stuff to go back into the hospital again. The next morning we learn that my grandmother has passed. Again, I do not know why I did not cry, at least maybe not immediately. I think I did a good job convincing myself that I will not appear weak to any eyes, at least for the sake of my mother, who was a single child and an only daughter. Everyone who knew my grandmother always told me that she always wanted a baby boy too, but were really not in a financial condition to afford a quality life for another child. It was a very strong decision, because it is admirable that she put the quality of her daughter’s and family’s life over her own desires. That is what she was, a strong willed, independent woman, who loved us more than anything in this world. Like everyone even she had her flaws. She had a way of speaking that could easily provoke anyone, she also had a way to make sure that she got what she wanted done even at the cost of other’s sacrifices, and they were poorly left acknowledged at the business end as well. We knew what kind of a person she was, but she will always be remembered for the good memories we shared.

I volunteered to stay in the back side of the ambulance along with the body. I closed the windows, I felt sweat dripping into my mask and me finding it extremely difficult to breathe. I think there was a second I wanted to be completely wiped out of existence, and I cried silently but, the hardest way I have ever done. I held her hands on the entire way. I always helped her walk when she found it difficult to, it only felt right that I held her hands into her final destination. When we approached the house, I opened the window to catch a glance of my mother, who stood there silently, with the feeling of shock presiding that of grief. I closed the window in a hurry, and I swept away my tears. I really believed that if my grandmother really needed anything from me, it’s that I take good care of my mother and never let her feel a moment of loneliness. I intended to and always will stay true to that. We are mutually aware that we will only have each other at the worst of times. A difficult few days followed. While we were slowly coping up with the situation, our physical and mental health deteriorated. My mother constantly fell sick and I think I brought myself into a point where the state of how my mother reacted to the circumstance was starting to affect me. I was admitted into a hospital with issues that later proved to be mild, but I was left with constant paranoia and confusion.

I took her ashes to the place I was born, and performed rituals at that blessed, holy site. I returned to my town after that with my mother. I made sure I was with her when we visited the doctor, and that she was soon back to her normal self. Here we are, over a month later. We have physically recovered, but when I’m back at this house, sitting on the chair typing this, I know that my grandmother will forever be missed. There will always be a void left unfilled, but something we must learn to live with.

A very trivial and a hypothetical question that we find asking ourselves, might sound extremely insensitive some but one of absolute logic to others:

If I had a chance to bring one of them back to life, who would it be.

My heart definitely screamed to bring my grandmother back. Now it might seem like I am contradicting my own ideals of treating all lives equally. While I truly do believe this, I think I couldn’t be more wrong in only simply stating it; I think every individual value the life of that which has influenced the life of its own the most, over the others.

We do not know when is the last time we talk to someone, help them in any tiny way possible or maybe even smile at them. It is inevitable that if something happens to any life after we separated with a negative instance, we will forever live to regret that moment. Maybe they only way one can surely overcome this uncertainty in life is to treat all lives with as well as we can, whenever we can. I have made lapses in judgement, regarding many decisions, concerning many lives. We cannot carry the regrets forever, to our end. It is only fair that we try to mend our ways moving forward. I do not know when I will be back here, letting my thoughts run wild and free. But until then.

Keep growing.

image by jannoon28. By freepik.com

Mirage.

As of now, this moment. Here I am sitting in front of my computer looking for words to express how I feel right now. Vapor slowly rising from a hot cup of coffee sitting next to me. I am a man who observes. Someone who loves to embrace the serenity quietness provide. Stay quiet and still, so that all I hear are the chirping of tiny birds in my balcony, and wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside my apartment. Yet even I am unable to find my way through this situation, when every person I know are locked inside within their homes in fear and anxiety. I observed the kids play, the old couple walking on the street as the sun set, students running across blocks trying to make it to their classes on time; through my window. Now my window is powered by electricity, my only connect with the world outside.

I was something of a traveler myself, years of routine starting with me climbing onto crowded buses and then jumping out of one to get onto another. I used to loathe the idea of shifting from one bus to the other; because it mainly involved waiting for long periods in stations with no shelter experiencing the scorching heat of the afternoon sun. I was always rather clever to avoid the sun when I finally get into the bus because I was aware of the positioning of seats and from which direction the rays would be entering inside; If I did get a seat. An ironic moment for a person who claims to enjoy the most when playing with friends under the sun, for hours. After the application of sun positioning and navigation and further leaps from one bus to the other. All the stress of finding space in buses aside, time never seemed to be a factor that ever bothered me, as I shut myself from the external world with about ten songs I listen to everyday. I did secretly enjoy the melodramatic scene I created, music so loud everything else appeared mute, as I looked outside the window when I immersed myself with the thoughts of situations that could happen in an ideal world.

When someone tells you home is not somewhere you live in, home means the people you live with; you better believe it. As I step into the college premises everyday, I am excited for how I get to spend my time with my friends on the day. Everyday promising a new experience filled with fun and drama. You meet and spend time with all kinds of people. The quiet and serious ones, the carefree type and the ones trying to enjoy but pretend like they work all the time. There was a new story about certain someone doing something with someone else that created waves of chatter between friends. When the chatter does subside, the silence was more than capable of filling the gap. I would wrap my arms around the one I love and I could look into her bright beautiful eyes and tell her that I love her, and listen to her reminding me how warm my body was. Every walk we walked were different. Every instance of spending time together, working together, or even lunch together; everything offered something everyone craves in their life the most. Change. After all it is what separates us from the screen I am looking at right now; as long as I am alive, I will always welcome the possibility of change.

We say our goodbyes, and I am back where I started. Back to the whole bus experience. And when I finally reach home, I did not feel tired, but I felt the need to reward myself with time dedicated just for myself, where no one spoke, no one is fighting for a seat or no one is asking me to get a ticket. You could say that I practiced social distancing every evening before it became a global phenomenon.

I never thought my life contained so many instances of adventure and excitement that I had to actually write about it. I deemed it as a rather monotonous, boring life. But what I would not give to go back to it. To go back to travelling under the sun, to go back to watching kids play and scream at the top of their voices on the playground, to see old couples walk on the street again trying to find time to communicate openly with each other and enjoy their time separated from the rest of the world, and hug my love again and tell her how much I missed her.

I took a break. I decided to close my eyes and focus on what I could hear. The chirps were more clear and prominent, almost like the number of birds exponentially increased when we decided to stay inside. The sparrows were tweeting and the peacock crying loud as they walked across my street with their young ones by their side, fearlessly. It felt like every being who could now walk outside without the fear of being inflicted by anything gathered together outside our homes to remind us about how important it is to strive for a balance in nature. Maybe this is for the better. Maybe we will grow. Maybe we will do enough to restore the world of it’s peace not only among humans but among every living being. For now we play the waiting game, we are on a fight when we go up against forces not in our control and all we have is hope and the virtue of patience in our arsenal. We stay strong together, and we wait.

After all as they say, This too shall pass.

Image credits. Freepik.com

Unlocking Doors.

It was finally time. The hour has finally come. I stood outside my apartment, placed my fingers slowly on the doorbell switch, watching as my mom opened the door with a smile like she always does. I took a glance at the stack of shoes near the door. The stickers on the door reverberating hospitality. I called this place home for 10 years. Now my journey has left me at crossroads. This time I had there was no shortcuts or cheat codes to find a way to cling on to my sanctuary spot. In 6 months I will be moving to new lands, looking for opportunities of study to pursue my higher education. I had no choice but to move on. I never believed in being overly attached to inanimate objects, even though I’d argue the case for my phone and computer, I would never really have thought that I would indeed, miss my apartment so much. Every time I stepped out of the doorway and locked the door, my subconscious was keeping a subtle count of how many times I get to repeat the action until I leave the place for good. Suddenly I was flying, as a wild familiar storm of Deja vu blew me off my toes.

Drowsy, maybe it was a boring class. I slowly opened my eyes, with an unpleasant aftertaste of anxiety. Maybe the feeling of separation however did not contain itself within my living premises. The grimness lurked it’s way into my personal and college life. Like every other student would agree, the people and the experiences pulled me towards the college, like a moth towards a candle flame. We were in our final year of study, counting days left for each of us where we can meet, share and have fun together. Many of us chose to follow their path towards a successful career, which meant that many of them would be leaving many of the others behind as they slowly learn to make the transition to work life. A few rare cases of friends ending up in the same workplace proved as exceptions, as the others dreaded the moment when they will have to face the reality of letting their best friends with whom they have spent the best parts of 4 years spent on and off university grounds. This transition apparently presenting itself to be a stumbling block in the smooth road of relationship for couples and friendship in best friends.

Maybe I was a little fortunate in that aspect. I managed to hold onto my love and my boys, at least until the end of the academic year. But it was never going to be easy watching your friends go, and even worse; watch the ones you love suffer from letting go of people close to them. It was like classic cinema; what started off as drama and romance had spiraled into mystery; Everyone quite anxious and filled with speculation of what is to become of their future. It was overwhelming, I was falling deep into that endless pit; and I opened my eyes, finding myself staring at an uninteresting roof.

My phone rung so loud that it deafened me for a second. Rather strange, to receive a call this late. I looked at the time, and then at the date. I smiled as I knew what came next is going to stay in my head for a long time to come. The next moment, I was lying on the bed eyes wide open, trying to find that glorious moment that would put me into a deep peaceful sleep; something that has evaded me since the thought of moving out was planted in my head. I looked around me and I saw three absolutely crazy, weird misfits around me, sleep deprived, tired, all passed out with tiny stains of my birthday cake near their mouths. These guys welcomed me to this place when I was just a boy, just 10 years of age. From somewhere between fighting for our favorite seats in school buses and long spicy conversations about our love lives we managed to enjoy each other’s company; and also put up with each other’s anomalies.

My head hit the window and I woke up with a start. I could see my buddy complaining onto my face about how I fell asleep in the bus when I was actually supposed to be sharing some of my interesting stories with him. Him reminding that I had only six months left to do all these did not help my anxiety. I had to remind him often that I would be in fact moving onto higher levels of education and not afterlife. Even though we had to endure long hours of travel to commute between our homes and college, it presented us with the gift of time to share and engage. The conversations kept the trip alive and joyful, at least when I was not dozing off next to a very curious person sitting next to me disgruntled at my choice of nap times. I’m a late night person, so it was only natural that a second later I found the same window pane I had just crashed onto; to be a soft quilt for me to fall asleep on.

I felt a soft hand around my face. Slowly tapping my nose, in a cute way to wake up. I moved my head around a bit, enjoying the comfort and warmth I felt resting on those legs. I opened my eyes and I knew I was looking at my favorite person in the whole wide world. I was treated to a menacing smile, something that was in equilibrium with ‘that felt good’ and ‘we’re late for class!’. Sometimes I enjoyed being a bit of a rebel, as I reasoned with her to let me get comfortable for some more time. But I was dealing with a rather responsible person here. Soon I was dragging myself to a class I absolutely did not like attending; A necessary evil in this case maybe. Maybe physically present, but again little did I know I’d be drifting into another world which had nothing much to do with computers and e-commerce.

The alarm was screaming into my ears. I felt like I’d just been dizzy punched by a bear. I wish I could just go back to sleep. My eyes looked tired, my mind weakened with fatigue. But it was another day. A new window for new experiences. Another chance to do something new with the people I love spending time with. Another day of the six months. I thought going back into the trance of sleep where I could relive my moments made me happy, at least until I realized that looking forward to a new day, to meet everyone again was actually what was driving me forward.

Images by freepik.com

You’ve got a friend in Me.

It was another cloudy day. The end of my school vacation was approaching, marking the end of summer as well. It was a smooth transition from the scorching heat and shining sun to heavy rains and cold breeze. I was out for a walk with my grandfather, something I have enjoyed throughout my childhood and even today. I was just a 10 year old boy scared of speeding vehicles on the highway so close to my house I could hear the buses waging wars against each other. I held onto his hands, refusing to let go; The sense of responsibility regarding the safety and well being of my old grandfather prioritized over my fears of the asphalt. As we entered the shop, we met a relative of ours, a very witty old man. Accompanying him, was a beast, thick brown and black coat, sharp ears and eyes blazing with authority. Even though now, the 21 year old me would go running to give the Alsatian a hug, the small boy who stood in front of the elegant creature experienced only the feeling of fear. I held my grandfather’s hand firmly, believing I would take off along with him the first chance I get. The next thing that happened was nothing short of spectacular; as we bid farewell, the old man got into his car, and spoke to his dog like he was a small child. “Get into the car Shera!”. You could say the same thing to a child, Maybe he would listen; probably he wouldn’t. But I realized this dog was no child, it was a soldier. He got into the car, not hesitating, paying no attention to the small boy who was gaping at him in amazement.

Fast forward a few years, I was studying in a new school. Made new friends, experiencing new culture. A lot had changed; Yet I was still unsure about dogs. I was still intimidated. I can still vividly remember being chased around by strays, deafened by the screams of my younger friends who were on the run along with me. My dad used to tell me that it is only humans, and not animals that hurt you when even when you don’t hurt them. It seemed a little far fetched for a kid to actually believe that, as we often plotted to show the dogs who’s alpha. We were keeping a lookout for one particular dog. One with a chestnut brown colored coat. The one which would chase us away growling, if we were ever present in vicinity. After many days of being chased, we finally grew tired of it. We decided to go on the offensive, as we packed our soft bullet air guns as we approached the dog when it was sleeping. As we moved in closer, the dog saw us coming and suddenly raised it’s head gazing at us. Our hearts skipped a beat as we prepared to resort to running away. The dog looked at us for a few seconds, and went back to sleep. I don’t know what did the trick, whether if the smell of fear was masked by that of false courage, or just because it felt we meant no harm, after all. We took another look at the dog, all of our faces which carried a grimace slowly turned into smiles as we saw tiny puppies lying next to the dog. We went back home. We never forgot about the event. We finally came to the conclusion that the dog was aggressive because it was carrying it’s puppies and felt that any external interference would put their lives in danger. The sense of protection and care are forever embedded in a mother’s heart; may it be human, a dog or any other living being. Maybe my father was right. They don’t attack with no reason. I felt like I understood these amazing beings better. How they think and how they feel.

I had a friend who used to help me out with math. I used to go to his house on weekends. He too happened to have a cute little dog, a dachshund. A very playful and pleasant dog. It used to play around, used to climb on my legs. It was however not a big fan of goodbyes. One of the days my mom came over to take me home, as I was saying goodbye, the dog climbed over me and was playfully looking at me; asking me to stay. My friend pulled her leash to make her let go of me. She still tried to hold on, when she couldn’t use her paws she decided to bite onto the end of my pants which eventually tore in half. I ran crying to my mother. A rather funny sight. It looked like I was wearing a poorly tailored shorts one side longer than the other, with me holding the lower half of the pants in my hands crying. It took me a while to understand why this happened. Maybe fear was still there, but my fascination for dogs grew a little more, day after day.

Time flies. Years passed. I was living in an apartment; and by apartment I refer to someplace where only people are supposed to live. NO PETS. I didn’t realize this was just something they were expected to say and didn’t intend, and I was left in dismay as the officials told me this the moment I stepped into my new home. I made peace with the fact that there was no way I could have a dog in this space, and even if I could keep one, there’s no way everyone at home would support this, as they had a rather realistic view on the difficulties of keeping a pet in an apartment. I still wrestled with the idea of getting a dog into the house. At that point in time I was completely alien to the idea of adopting a puppy; throughout my life I’ve met owners who bought a puppy from someone else who owned a dog. I wanted a dog for myself real bad. The situation only got further serious when I met the cute small puppy one of my close friends had got for himself. I was extremely thrilled, I loved playing with the puppy. And this time, it was not the dog, but me who had trouble saying goodbye and letting go. He had bought the dog from someone who knew about puppies, so I decided that I’d take the same road, and get one for myself. If my dad wasn’t going to fund, I was going to generate the funds by myself. I decide to work during the summer on an internship which paid me enough to get a Golden Retriever. A breed I absolutely adored. The playful, loyal, happy, elegant looking dogs.

With a little help from my grandma, my sister and my friends, I was finally able to put together enough to get the puppy. Everything was set in place, and the puppy was in transit to my home. I was jumping with joy. It was almost like how you fall in love with someone, and you imagine all series of events in life you experience with them; I could see the puppy growing up into a majestic dog in my head. But unfortunately, I couldn’t meet my little one right away, as my internship was still on, and I was expected to complete the assigned duration of 2 months. The few days I had to go work, I believe taught me the true pain of separation. I have to owe it to the fact that I have so many wonderful friends; another close friend of mine decided to help me out and let the puppy stay with him and his own dog when I was away. He used to send me pictures of her everyday, and I was pretty much guilty of spending a lot of time looking at how cute she looked with all the golden fur; when I actually should’ve been working. We didn’t come up with a name for her initially. I was on a hunt for names, and we finally decided to stick with Zoey.

As soon as I received the permission to complete the internship and return home, I pounced at the opportunity and went to my friend’s house to meet the puppy. I cannot possibly put the feeling of meeting Zoey for the first time in words; but if you ever see me smiling out of the blue it is probably me remembering about the time we met. I took her home in my car, she was moving around restlessly at the back, as it was her first time travelling in car. My parents weren’t around at the time, so we both had the whole house to ourselves. Sometimes it was raining outside and sometimes I was too lazy, so I spent a lot of time cleaning up after the mess she makes. But i still cherish the moments when she used to give me a guilty smile after I had to clean up. The nights were the hardest. I used to tie her to the door on the way to my room. The bed used to have a tall cover beside the headrest, and when I finally decided to go to sleep; I closed my eyes for a few seconds I could hear a small cry for help. That’s when I woke up to see Zoey looking at me. She stood silent for a while looking at me. I went back to sleep and she started crying again. I realized that she was afraid I was going away every time I lied down, because she couldn’t see my when I went to sleep. I felt like a dad with a cranky baby, as I got up, went to her, petted her and reassured her that I was still there. The adjusting period was not simple. But we got through it together.

Soon my parents were back home. They couldn’t stay mad at me for bringing a dog home after looking at her. They too fell in love with her as we all agreed on welcoming her to our family. Days went by so quickly, she grew bigger each day. My mom and dad spending more time with her as I had to soon return to college. Amidst all the fun, the cleaning up was getting harder, with the dog getting bigger and shedding fur. But we were so much in love with her, there is no way we could let the work behind cleaning or caring for her be an obstacle.

I thought this would work. I believed it would sustain forever. Months passed. We soon learned that due to medical complications, my sister had to deliver a baby prematurely, which meant that the baby was more vulnerable to infections and diseases than others. A new born baby in the family! An event that should normally bring us joy was now mixed with our feelings of anxiety for the wellness of my sister and the baby. After weeks of fear and anxiety, a baby girl was born. A tiny person wrapped in multiple layers of cotton sheets. I felt the bad times had passed; that the days to come will be filled with more happiness. Yet it didn’t stop there. When I kept my faith in a better future, that’s when the doctor advised that we move Zoey away because it’s fur could compromise the health of the newborn baby.

I found it impossible to accept the fact that I had to part ways with my little one. In fact, it was the same with everyone who saw her grow up. Everyone at home were crestfallen when they realized Zoey couldn’t stay with us anymore. I tried to argue my cause; but I lost the battle between something I loved more than myself, something I’d watched grow up against the sensitivities of human sentiments. I decided to give her away. My dad told me about his friend who wanted to get a dog, so we decided to let Zoey stay with him. I saw the thin line of hope of bringing her back home once the situation had passed.

It was a rather terrible moment when everyone at home had to say goodbye to Zoey. We got her into the car, as we drove towards the place which was to be her new home. I was crying profusely, my dad had his hands on the wheel, and a rather stern look; but I could see him holding back what he actually felt. When I met the people who would be taking care of her, I felt confident in their commitment for Zoey and her care. I left her in the house, and I rushed back into the car as I tried my best to not come off looking weak and helpless. I stayed in the car, silent and stuck in a trance of shock and despair.

But it is what they say; Time heals everything. I was soon used to opening the front door not being welcomed happily by a cute ball of fur. I found myself with a lot of free time as I was relieved from the duties of walking and playing with my little puppy.

I visit her whenever I get a chance. Maybe we don’t stay together and meet everyday, but we know how much we care for each other. It is not to say I miss her any less. Everyday when I eat at the table, I remember her looking at me yearning for a bite of whatever I was eating. When I bite into an apple I remember her appearing out of nowhere because she really did love apples. When the vacuum cleaner is turned on, I remember her running away scared of the noise and hide herself under the couch with her tail outside.

But when I meet her today, I don’t find a myself in a situation where I ask myself if I need to bring her back home. I know she has a family who cares a lot for her, I know she has a big house with a lot of space to run and play. I believe she is happier here than she could be anywhere else. And I feel a whole lot better knowing that she is happy and well.

Because I think maybe I did love her enough to let her go.

Dogs are wonderful creatures gifted with the ability to love and care. Stray or domestic, it is important we treat them with affection and care and learn to respect their existence. Let us stand for our furry friends, and fight against their ill-treatment and abuse.