My little piglet who grew up into the most handsome dog, who loved to sit in front of the electric fan beside me when I had a writing project, and who loved to say goodbye to me when I left for work by propping his forelegs up on the gate.
My sweet baby boy who patiently waited for me to finish petting Sammy before I could get to him, who resorted to claiming my legs to demand hugs, who did everything he was told except to go inside the house after a walk.
My booboo who sat down even before you could get the biscuits out of your pocket, who started dancing in his sitting position because he was excited to get his treats.
My poor, but very brave pup who got very, very sick twice within a few months, unable to walk, challenged to pee, fighting off some unknown infection. He got better each time, but it must have taken a toll on his body and his resistance, and he caught a cold this week, and wasn’t able to recover from that.
I had no idea it was coming. He was walking. Last night, we took a walk around the block so that he could eat grass – he was throwing up phleghm and I thought he just needed to sort out his stomach. So, he started throwing up all his food, and stopped eating; I suppose he figured out that ingesting something means you have to throw it up. I would smear his teeth with supplemental vitamins so that he would have some sort of food coming in. I thought he would be better tomorrow.
I spent his last day with him. I sat with him while I worked and constantly refilled his water bucket – he would take a few sips then topple it over and look inside. I don’t know what it was he was looking for, but I just kept on filling it up and he would get thirsty, take a few sips then topple it over again. I was worried that maybe I had to leave him alone so that he could sleep, it seemed like my presence forced him to stay awake. I petted him constantly and he was happy.
Finally, I left him to take a shower so that I could get ready for ballet. It was Mom who found him, unmoving, his eyes open. I couldn’t believe it. Last night, we were taking a stroll around the neighborhood, and he was deliberately pissing off the dogs of the other houses, behind their locked gates. Yesterday, he won a fight with Sammy (though Hugo helped). I only started force-feeding him supplement sickboy food yesterday. I was going to bring him to the vet tomorrow if he still refused to eat. Today, I saw him about to throw up, but it subsided, and I thought, ah, he’s getting better.
I’m starting to think that he waited for me to leave him before he died. He probably thought it would hurt me less.
He’s always been a good dog. I will miss him terribly.