Losing a dog is the hardest of all. Saw the memory I posted on Facebook when my beloved boxer passed away. It was in September 2021. Yet it seemed like just yesterday when I looked in The Eye and said good-bye, not really knowing if it’s going to be the last time I see him.
Boxer where are you? Are you in heaven. You must be because of all the good you have brought to my life?
Maybe it’s hard because I feel that I haven’t had enough time with him. My hand still remember,bears the softness of his fur on his head between his ears all the way to his nose. Like it’s him reminding me that he is still that like puppy yelping with joy when I come home from work to play ball with him. “Where’s the ball, box?!” And we run in circles round the backyard around the table, i run after you mostly, you with the ball securely held in between you teeth. I stop and you stop listening intently to see if I have sneakily changed direction.
It seemed like just that first day when I had you in the small cardboard box. Yes you were that tiny little pup. I carried you upstairs to my bedroom, with grandpa ( my father) turning round from his tv telling me I’m in trouble ( for bringing my home a dog). But they all grew to love you even the new baby in the house. He called you “gengen” and must see you every morning when he comes over to grandpa’s. You slept in my room that night when when it was morning you have cleverly escaped your box and pawing to get up on my bed. You are a clever pup. And from that night on, I am your mama. I’m a mama to the world’s sweetest dog. You boxer.
Did we visit the dog run enough? The dog run at west coast park. It’s still there. I remember one time we went and somehow you lost me when all I did was walk to the other end of the dog run thinking to let you have some free time. When I looked up, you were running up and down from the entrance to the vertical end of the park frantically, like you were looking for something. Then I realised it’s someone. Me. You thought you lost me. I shouted across the park “ Boxer!” In amusement and you stopped in your tracks, looked over and came racing towards me. I hear ‘wows’ from other doc owners sitting on the benches. And I am a proud mama just like that.
Did we go to the beach enough? I remember the first time we went, you fell sleep under my arched legs sitting under the coconut trees because you are still a baby and need your naps. But you don’t fuss, you don’t pout, you just sleep when you feel the safest, you sleep right by me as I stroke your tiny furry body feeling so blessed to have you. I still have that photo. We went a few more times probably but not many because you didn’t like the water. You didn’t like getting into the water just like you never liked having a bath. You try to shake all the water away as soon as I splashed you to soap you.
Did we go for walks enough? The green patch , okay it’s much bigger that a patch, where I used to unleash you and chase you up and down the hill, it’s chestnut close park now. The place you used to explore the tall Lalangs at the sides and guard like it’s your own. Every time I see a dog walking by I had to quickly stand by you in case you chase them down to show them whose territory it is. It’s not ours baby, but it’s in my fondest memory for sure. I hope it is in yours too.
I’m sorry we had to leave you behind with grandpa and grandma when we left for India. But so characteristically you, you bear no grudge towards us and welcome me home every time we fly home for visits even though it’s 6 months apart. If you were upset with me, you never showed it, you just lap up my presence with all your love and loyalty. Even when we came home with the little one, you were gentle, you sniffed at him, like you know he is your little brother. And then another, and then again almost 2 years ago a little sister shone you gently licked. You are the best big brother.
I remember those late nights after I came home from work. I’ll open the back kitchen door and there you will be, sleepy but always there licking my hands bending your head so I can pat you. Until i say sleepy time box and you sleepily curl up at your favourite spot to sleep. On earlier nights, but too late to play, you hurl your front paws up the kitchen sink to look at me thought the window with twinkling eyes and tongue sticking out, and a body shaking so hard because of your wagging tail, i smile, open the wooden door and rubbed you down until it’s sleepy time boxer.
Maybe it’s a guilt that I have not done enough in those last moments. You have never given us any trouble with your health growing up. You were never sick, you were never down. Even when we visited the vet to have you re micro chipped, the vet couldn’t believe you were 13 years old, she said you still behave like a puppy, so energetic so full of life.
So many should have could have would have. And these tears keep flowing,
absolutelyinlove's Blog 