On missing that wagging tail

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.