Ode to my little furry boy
One of my earliest memories is that of a young girl watching my dad and his brother bury their pet dog in the garden behind our rambling kampung house.
In snatches of memory like bits of stray thread on a hem, I remember lots of paper lined around the deep ditch before they lowered him carefully.
Years later, I saw the same sadness overcome my father when our pet dog ran away and couldn’t be found. She was his little queen – a haughty little thing perched on his bed beside him.
This time I was 18 and my tears at her loss was as searing as everyone in my home who loved her.
It would be more than 20 years before I finally found the courage to get my own dog. In the intervening years, I clocked a long and meandering career and spent a lifetime of raising my boys. In a way, I was preparing for this new baby and making space – both physically and in my heart.
I say courage because it’s a responsibility akin to having children. I remember my Mother-in-law asking me if I really wanted all that trouble when I can finally be footloose and fancy free.
Yet there I was. With my second son and fellow animal lover, at the kennel in Pasir Ris. And I picked my Gussie boo. He came home on the eve of Christmas four years ago.
The initial months weren’t easy of course. But I’ve come to realise one incredible thing about having a pet: I am an almost unrecognisable person around him.
Some people say that children bring out the best attributes in them. I do agree – insofar as how much patience an impatient person like me had to have. Or how much restraint I’ve had to show all the times I’ve been angry.
But I wouldn’t be honest if I said parenting didn’t also bring out the worst in me. I’ve always believed that I’m not a natural parent – the kind, giving, hugging sort that children bloom under.
At the risk of being lynched for comparing an animal to people, I’d like to say my little furry fella only brings out the best in me.
He’s an ankle biter and I’ve had many a painful swipe. What do I do? I pick him up and nuzzle his face. “Don’t do that!”is my weak yell.
He is up at dawn and bothers me to walk him. I oblige with nary a complaint fooling myself into thinking I get a walk too.
He often eats whatever he finds on the floor and this can give him a tummy ache which leads to poo all over the place. I clean it up without a noise and cuddle him because he’s got an upset tummy.
Mostly though, he’s the recipient of a thousand cuddles and a million kisses. He can’t object of course. But it’s incredible to me because I’m not a cuddly, kissy person.
I know people who won’t get a pet because death is inevitable and that sadness can be as painful as a heartbreak.
And I know I’ll get there some day. I think about it often. In the meantime however, I will indulge in my little furry dude, around whom I am the very best version of me. ❤️
That’s him bugging me for a walk
How not to kiss and cuddle a face like this?