Approximately six hours ago, a very close friend of mine passed away. My mother gave me the news through Whatsapp.
I read the message and felt my insides drop and go cold. But they returned to normal within a split second and I said I was fine and wished my mother a good night. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the reality hit me and I cried. The kind of crying that feels like all the air is being sucked out of your chest, where you cant breathe or make any noise- just a strange clicking sound that sends the worst convulsions through your body, making you powerless to do anything but lay there. When I did get a chance to breathe, I could only wail out all the air again, feeling like a child.
I stopped a long time ago, but as exhausted as I am, I cannot sleep and I cannot stop the tears flowing. And so, I decided to do what I usually do when I'm emotional. I decided to write.
I decided to write about Isaboo, my dog.
She was a puppy in the back of an old van, very skinny and very hyperactive. My entire family fell in love with her at first sight and we bundled her in our van and took her home. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to name her. First she was Faith. Then she was Kelso. My mother wanted to name her something, I can't remember. However, before I slept, I decided she would be called Isaboo; a doggie version of Isabelle.
That first night she kept whining through the night so I periodically woke up to keep her company and she finally stopped once I gave her some milk.
She was not a healthy dog. She had allergies so we had to constantly take her back and forth from the vet. She also had asthma, so she couldn't run a lot. She became quite accustomed to taking pills and syrups and having cream applied on her. She would never lick it off and would always come for her medication on time. I remember once, when she was a puppy, I was busy un-boxing her cream when she sat down, crawled over to me and put her head down on my lap with a huff. For some reason, that moment is still fresh in my head, can remember it as if it happened just a minute ago.
I remember when she got into a fight with another one of our dogs and came crying. She didn't have any wounds, but she only stopped crying when I put ice on her fur- come to think of it, she probably couldn't feel the ice, her fur was so thick.
I remember when she didn't eat her food and my grandma was worried. Finally, I sat down next to her with her bowl and petted her and talked to her. Reluctantly she started to eat her food, as if just to please me.
I remember how she adopted the orphan kittens we brought in, how she would sleep with them and how she would never attack any other animal.
She was the kindest, most caring animal I had ever known and one of the best friends I had and could ever have.
I knew a few days ago, that she was suffering from kidney failure, and once the doctors sent her home saying there was nothing more they could do, I prepared myself for the worst. But no amount of preparations can make losing a friend easier.
She was only five years old. I will always miss her. And I will always love her.
I read the message and felt my insides drop and go cold. But they returned to normal within a split second and I said I was fine and wished my mother a good night. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the reality hit me and I cried. The kind of crying that feels like all the air is being sucked out of your chest, where you cant breathe or make any noise- just a strange clicking sound that sends the worst convulsions through your body, making you powerless to do anything but lay there. When I did get a chance to breathe, I could only wail out all the air again, feeling like a child.
I stopped a long time ago, but as exhausted as I am, I cannot sleep and I cannot stop the tears flowing. And so, I decided to do what I usually do when I'm emotional. I decided to write.
I decided to write about Isaboo, my dog.
She was a puppy in the back of an old van, very skinny and very hyperactive. My entire family fell in love with her at first sight and we bundled her in our van and took her home. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to name her. First she was Faith. Then she was Kelso. My mother wanted to name her something, I can't remember. However, before I slept, I decided she would be called Isaboo; a doggie version of Isabelle.
That first night she kept whining through the night so I periodically woke up to keep her company and she finally stopped once I gave her some milk.
She was not a healthy dog. She had allergies so we had to constantly take her back and forth from the vet. She also had asthma, so she couldn't run a lot. She became quite accustomed to taking pills and syrups and having cream applied on her. She would never lick it off and would always come for her medication on time. I remember once, when she was a puppy, I was busy un-boxing her cream when she sat down, crawled over to me and put her head down on my lap with a huff. For some reason, that moment is still fresh in my head, can remember it as if it happened just a minute ago.
I remember when she got into a fight with another one of our dogs and came crying. She didn't have any wounds, but she only stopped crying when I put ice on her fur- come to think of it, she probably couldn't feel the ice, her fur was so thick.
I remember when she didn't eat her food and my grandma was worried. Finally, I sat down next to her with her bowl and petted her and talked to her. Reluctantly she started to eat her food, as if just to please me.
I remember how she adopted the orphan kittens we brought in, how she would sleep with them and how she would never attack any other animal.
She was the kindest, most caring animal I had ever known and one of the best friends I had and could ever have.
I knew a few days ago, that she was suffering from kidney failure, and once the doctors sent her home saying there was nothing more they could do, I prepared myself for the worst. But no amount of preparations can make losing a friend easier.
