Of the litter of six puppies you were
the only one who survived, for then atleast. Four months later you
got run over by an ignorant moron. If only he would've seen you
following me and everyone else around the building and seen the
carpets and doormats chewed up awkwardly. If only he would've seen
you roll over when someone rubbed your stomach. If only he would've
found all the missing chappals and sandals that you loved to chew. If
only he'd felt your cold,wet nose against his. Or heard the sound of
your paws on the cold marble. If only he'd held his palm out and held
your paw in a polite 'shake-hand'. Or would've seen you come running
towards him when he called out your name. If only he'd seen how your
little soul had become such a big part of ours.
It's almost been a
month, a month since I sat there petting your motionless body and
helplessly see the blood make its way out of your mouth. Tears were
shed, people were hugged and held tighter, food was left untouched on
plates. Your bowl is no longer below the staircase, it is where it
belongs, with you. I miss that wagging tail of yours and I guess I
can because I can never forget it.
