"Ma, I'll get his green squeaky toy," I said as I was about to get out from the car.
"No," replied my mother, "just leave it in the house so we can have something to remind us of him."
"He has other toys. Let's have the the green one, his very first toy, buried with him," I insisted.
My mother agreed, "Okay."
It's still 6AM and there's already much ado about our dog named Odie. My mother and I are in the car. We are discussing, with tears in our eyes, how we will bury our much-loved family member.
While on our way, we reminisced our days with Odie. The times he would sniff our scent and hear the sound of our gate keys even if it's far from where he is inside the house and joyfully welcome us when we get inside. The times he would poke our knees during meals to ask us for table food. The times he, with puppy eyes and his adorable-tongue-out expression, would ask us to play with him.
Digging his grave was not an easy task. At first it was. But when I placed his body down into the grave and covered him with earth, I sobbed. My mother and niece sobbed. As if the tears we shed last night after Odie's car accident weren't enough.
Five years ago, I would never have imagined that I would actually have a dog. Yes, I wanted one but it was just up there in my mind. And then a year and a half ago, a colleague asked if I wanted a dog since her dog was about to give birth.
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| Our first day together. |
My face lit up with an excited smile. There were apprehensions while I was waiting for the dog to be given to me. Would I be able to take care of him? Will my mother like him considering that she's not a dog person? But then I decided to push through with the adoption. I can still recall the details of the day I first met Odie. As much as I know every detail on the palm of my hand. When I carried him, he didn't resist. When we were in the car, I knew that he was sad but he just laid his head on my hand as if asking me "Take care of me." For the most part of the drive, I had one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand supporting Odie's head. The moment I arrived home and my mom saw Odie, there was an instant connection between the two of them. We took Odie to trips, to the mall, brought him with me while biking, and felt the pang of pain and worry on occasions that we had to leave him shortly for a dinner outside the house or when he was sick. He would follow us all around the house and play with my niece and nephews when we visited them. And he played as if there was no tomorrow.
Five years ago, I never imagined how painful it is to lose a dog. Now, it's like a brick smacked in our hearts. I never thought we could go this emotional for a pet. But, you see, he was not our pet. He was like a member of our family.
On the way back to our house after laying Odie to rest, there was an unbearable silence disrupted by short exchanges of our memories of Odie. The very moment we went inside the house, my mom and I cried again. There was no more Odie. No more of the jumping and tongue-out Odie. My mom and I have been through tough times together but we have never cried hard together. Only Odie has done this.
There are still a lot of things I want to write about Odie but I'll just keep them close to my heart. I didn't want to write this but I figured I had to as part of the grieving process.
All the tears I shed yesterday, today, and even tomorrow and in the future has been and will be a lot. But I force myself to take refuge in the thought that these tears are nothing compared to the happy moments we shared with you, Odie.
Odie, the house is awfully empty without you. I've been wanting to clean my room but now I don't want to because your loose fur on the carpet makes me think you are still with us.
Odie, we miss you. A lot. And it's breaking our hearts.
