A Letter to My Late Dog

A Letter to My Late Dog

Dear Tuffy,

I know you’ve long gone. And even if I’d have written you this before, it’d have made little difference. But I imagine, you’d have licked it, scratched it. And you’d have eaten it.

Anyway, I never worked up the sense to write it when your paws were still in my palms. When you used to sense my presence. When you made everyone in my family fall in love with you.

I’m not spiritual and I know there is no way my words will reach you wherever your soul is. But for now, I’d like to believe it. I’d like to believe that everything that I write to you, will reach you, somehow.

I clearly remember as it was yesterday. You and your brother came to my door. And we clicked. Us, all of us, we clicked. I named you Tuffy and your furry brother, Jimmy. You were the weaker one, sorry, don’t get upset. I mean, weaker in a cute way. Thin, tall, snow-white with black polka dots, low appetite, and a fondness of falling asleep on our doormat.

And your brother, how can I forget my Jimmy. He was the total opposite of you, fat, tall, brown Shrek, always hungry, and a fondness of never falling asleep at night.

I loved you both. Equally. Really. But we were not meant to be together for long. That horrible day when our beloved Jimmy was attacked by a stray dog. I remember everything. You were afraid, cramped in a corner. On the other side, Jimmy took up the fight on your behalf. I hope he’d have been less furious. He should’ve run away, just like you did. But Jimmy was one of those who never backed down, no matter what size of horror faced him.

We lost him that day. But every time I recall that incident, I like to imagine that Jimmy was bravely fighting to save you. That’s a good enough reason to fight with life at stake.

I was in class 6th and I had no idea how to take care of you. But I tired. Tried to feed you well, at the right times, and let you take me on a walk. My father was not a big fan of yours, and you know that too. But you furry creature, you befriended him like you’d read “how to win friends and influence people”.

Tuffy, how smoothly you accepted our home and our family. Never complaining we kept you outside. And never complaining we shouted on you every time you made a mess in the garden.

When I left home for my education, I wanted to explain it to you. Why I’ve to go, leaving you behind at home. You didn’t seem to like our long-distance arrangement. Those video calls helped us though.

And every time I came home, you welcomed with the highest excitement at home. Licking, hugging, wagging, all at once.

I’m happy that you lived to your fullest. Happy that my parents were there with you. Happy that I have got a couple of pictures of yours. My mom informed me about your ascend to heaven after two days. She was worried that I won’t be able to handle the news. And she was right. But I didn’t cry that day. It was the 1st of November, five months after, and my neighbors in this new city got two full-grown members of your species. But they were moving out. I broke into tears that day. Remembering you.

Your Alpha.


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