A month ago I had very different thoughts on how the first post of 2013 here would be like. My Facebook feed was full of best wishes and wonderful poems that I thought posting here. But six days in and my 2013 was off to a not very pleasant start.
I´ve always loved dogs. Since I was kid I enjoy play with them and spent tons of hours at my grandma´s house with her dog. That dog used to have puppies every now and then, and you can imagine how the love for dogs grew over time.
Always wanted one but living in an apartment is not easy. I´ve moved to a bigger house. A stray dog appeared. I took her home. But my parents decided not to keep her. If there was a day I hated my parents...God, it was that day. Tears were shed. (Later I knew a neighbour kept such dog)
A month after my 8th birthday my parents came pick me up at my grandma´s with a tiny little thing in their hands. A six-month old Yorkshire Terrier. I don´t even cared what breed it was. I had a fucking puppy! Boy, was I happy!
I saw her grow (not much though...which never stopped her to mess with bigger dogs...) and she saw me grow. If she talked she would know more about me than anyone else. We played, we walked, we run, I threw, she went get it. The silly dog almost died when she decided to go get food on the basement floor along with all the garbage from my mom´s little clothing factory...silly dog! She learnt her lesson...life was resumed...the hate for cats was still there: she never forgot that home invasion when we weren´t there! We arrived home...and a cat was at her little house...how dare he?? Never again! You too birds...if you fly too low you might find trouble! (we once found a victim of her reckless territory protection...we made him a nice funeral...no more victims were found). All of this crazy runs, up and down stairs and other debouchery (mostly food...) tired her out. I knew that when she would get older she could have some problems...mostly with her bones and I thought never wanting to witness that. I remember those first years I had her doing some maths to try to find which age I would have the day I might lose her. Silly, I know. Although the fact of losing her by accident or something silly (like the episode told above) wasn´t even in my mind...I couldn´t even imagine such scenario.
I just wanted her to get through this last Christmas plus first days of 2013. I realized she didn´t have much more to give and I gave her all I had. On that last day she did not left her corner. I gave her water. She refused the food. She knew me so well that when going to bed at 4am as often happens she was still awake. I told her thank you and goodbye in a mist of emotions hoping she would be there in the morning.....and hoping she wouldn´t be there in the morning. Took me 2 hours to fall asleep. I just couldn´t disconnect from that day with that mixed emotion. The next day...she was not there. I know she was happy. I know she had a good life. And she made me happy. All those 14 years. I´ll miss you. I´ll remember you.
Farewell Fofas.
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
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Title and poem [shamefully] stolen from this story I found just days after what happened with me >> Neil Gaman : Cabal
I´ve imagined a thousand ways to write this...
It´s done now.
