I'll Miss You, Lil Pup

We always had puppies but this one I recently adopted is different. My mom told me it was my canine counterpart. She was chinky eyed, liked to isolate herself from the other puppies and loved sleeping. She had this funny habit of getting in the way when my car arrived. She would stretch out her tiny body just a few inches where the wheel was about to halt. They call her suicidal. I thought to myself, she's just like me: self- destructive.

Like me, she ate very little but her favorite food was sushi. She'd wiggle her tail when she is served her fave dish. She can get moody too. Ignoring her when she wants to play with you will send her to some corner and starve herself. She had always been a weakling. Maybe that's why I adopted her. My heart went out for her. She was the tiniest in the brood of puppies that our dog gave birth to. However, she was the cutest, prettiest and meekest one. She had curly hair and looked like a toy.

While her siblings were all playful, they annoyed her a lot. She would sleep in a corner away from them. It bothered me that there were times when she refused to eat. Once, it rained hard and we found her on the ground after falling off from the terrace. She was shaking so bad I wrapped her in a piece of cloth to warm her up. I even blow dried her hair. I thought she was gonna die then. Thankfully, she survived. Next thing we knew, she was beating her siblings off to their meal. That's how I knew she was getting better.

The next few days she was her usual weak self again. I suspected she needed deworming. Her tummy was distended. My mom brought her to a vet clinic where she was confined for 5 days. They said her intestines were probably obstructed by a ball of worms. I was willing to spend just for her to get well. I prayed for her everyday. I saw myself in her. A weakling but a survivor. I wanted her to be healthy once again because seeing her well means there's hope, there's miracle. She went home improved but I sensed there could still be something wrong inside her.

These past few days, she only drank milk and milktea through a dropper. She lost her appetite once again. We changed her name a couple of times thinking that a particular name made her more prone to sickness. From Jeprox (my nick when I was a kid) to kim rox , finally to kim shoe (because she liked curling next to my hubby's shoes). It didn't work. She was getting sicker by the day.

Yesterday, she puked. I didn't realize there was blood in her vomitus until my mom told me this morning. This noon, it was my first time to hear her cry. She hardly made a noise before. My mom said she was passing out bloody stools. I could only run my fingers through her hair wishing i could do something for her. She was already on antibiotics. Then she wailed again. I knew she was in pain. I was hoping she could get over this one like she did a couple of times before. After all, she was my tiny survivor. A few minutes later, my mom called out "she's dying". I rushed out finding her nonresponsive yet heavily breathing. I tapped her over and over again hoping to get a response. She was after all, still breathing. She was in shock.Like the many terminal patients I witnessed dying before me, I knew she was about to go. It was frustrating to be a doctor yet helpless as to saving my little pet's life.

I went inside my room to hide my tears, leaving her to my mom's care. I wept my heart out afterwards. I couldn't stand the sight of her struggling to live. I thought we'd survive our sickness together. I thought we'd prove that miracles can happen. But there she was, holding on to her life by a thread. Any minute, I knew she was about to leave me. When I went out to work, she was still breathing . I shed tears while driving. When I was in the clinic, thinking of her crushed my heart. I found out later, that she gave out her final breath minutes later after I went out of the house.

I take refuge in the thought that she is over her suffering. No more pain. No more agony. She's a happy pup wherever she may be now. But still, I couldn't help myself from missing her.