11:25 pm Sunday, August 27, 2006
Fluffy Boy
(Warning: sad post)I once read somewhere that dog lovers like to be loved, whereas cat lovers like to love. I don't know which group I belong to, for I love both. In upper primary I had a Bichon Frise named Fluffy. My mum's best friend Auntie Mabel brought him to us when he was a puppy because she knew we were looking for a pet. We had already QC-ed away 2 other puppies who were difficult to control. (They both ended up with my late grandpa, and I suspected were put to sleep or abandoned when he passed away and my uncle wanted to sell the house.) Fluffy was also very naughty and went straight to chew up our shoes, but he was so adorable we let it go.I was closest to Fluffy because I bathed, fed and cleaned up after him. He would also wake me up every morning. Mum would open the door to the bedroom I shared with my sisters and he would jump up and roll around on my bed, snorting and grunting as he tunnelled underneath my pillow (with my head still on it) and blanket. It was a great way to wake up, although my bed smelled of his saliva after a while.When we went out, I was always the one carrying him and we had a system where I would stretch out my arm and he would put his paw over it, ready to be carried. If members of the family went out without him, he would run and jump onto our sofa next to the window, stick his nose out of the grilles and watch as the car pulled out. I loved to observe Fluffy as he observed the things going on around him.But sadly, he grew older and one day had a stroke. He couldn't move at all. My parents brought him to the vet who said we could operate. There was a low chance of success, but it would still cost a few thousand dollars. My parents decided to put Fluffy to sleep.That night as we went to sleep, I looked at Fluffy laying motionless in his basket, all alone in the living room, and felt so helpless. My younger sister and I cried ourselves to sleep. The next day when we woke up, my parents had returned from the vet, and Fluffy was gone. My elder sister had returned late from an outing and did not even know Fluffy was going. She never had the chance to say goodbye.Fluffy left when I was moving from secondary school to JC, and his passing made the transition period even harder for me. That was the first time we experienced death in the family. It was a good thing we soon moved out of that apartment, for every corner made me remember him.Until today I have Fluffy's picture on my dresser. I think my biggest regret in my 29 years of life, is that we did not try to save him. I know that if it happens again today, I would spend any amount of money to heal him. He was part of the family. It's too late for regrets, but I know this will weigh on my conscience forever. Tears never fail to fall when I think of how we had let him down, when we were the only ones who he could depend on.From onset of the stroke to when we put Fluffy to sleep, it was only a span of 2 days. Scary speed. I guess that means we were hurting so much that we ended his life to end our own pain.I think my family was so saddened by this incident that we are all too afraid to have another pet. Part of me also does not want to, for no other dog can replace Fluffy's place in our hearts.
Labels: Nostalgic Nut
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