Tuesday, 14 April 2009. You were tucked in a corner, the smallest I’d ever seen. I didn’t think a living thing could be that tiny. But you were. Living, and tiny. I couldn’t put you back. Signing the papers to bring you home, your name made me laugh. A coincidence, indeed.
February, 2009. I know why I started. The eventual aim to bring home my first dog. Along the way, I found more. More to give, love, care. And that Tuesday, I felt what it was like to give someone – who didn’t have a place to call his/her own – a home. Traveling home with you in a small carrier, I knew why I’d continue.
Saturday, 15 August 2009. You pulled your leg on the grills. The first time I got reminded that I would eventually lose you. A midnight call to the doctor said there was nothing much to be done but to keep you warm till the morning. Rushing you down the moment possible, the doctor was amazed at how easy you were to handle. You’ve always been friendly. And strong. You healed yourself without much help. And you moved into my room.
Thursday, 1 April 2010. Your birthday. Got you jelly, figured that was the closest to cake I could get. The picky eater that you are, you only licked it. But we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ anyway.
Saturday, 14 August 2010. You haven’t been eating much. But the sunflower seeds were always cleared. Today, you looked particularly frail. You didn’t run like your usual self anymore.
Sunday, 15 August 2010. Hunched over and drifting in and out of consciousness. I knew you were going soon. You couldn’t run anymore, but you did one last time in my hand. Your eyes weren’t open, but I hope you could see.
The trip to the vet was futile. There wasn’t much they could do anymore.
Sunday, 15 August 2010. A year after I almost lost you. I’m not going to mourn, because there’s hardly any use for that. Today, I celebrate you. For giving me the chance to feel the difference between buying and adopting. For reminding me why this is the passion I chose. And for filling the room with life.
Forever remembered, Tiny.