It was Avani’s party the next day and I was finishing up school work before I went to bed. It was then that the phone call came. 9.30 PM, January 16th.
11th September 2005. I was eight years old. Dogs fascinated me. We had bought a large yellow poster of dogs and their breeds; my dad and I. That day, we drove down the dusty road that led to Kalpana Kennels and drove out with a dog in hand. His fur was soft, his ears small, his eyes bright. His sister and brother were adorable. But we had our hearts set on him. I still remember the car ride back home. He was skittering all over my lap in the backseat, his nails digging into the cotton of my skirt. He was so small, so fragile, so beautiful.
Sharky was baby Pinocchio. His nose grew and grew to such an extent that he couldn’t even reach his tongue to his own nose. He had difficulty eating and would be extremely protective of his food. He would have sudden mood swings and bite randomly. But we still loved him. We had brought him home to keep. We could not give him away.
Sharky. The name still tingles in my head. It brings back bitter-sweet memories. Me and him; running around the house, him falling into the pool and showing off his swimming abilities, his on-and-off girlfriend-the next door neighbor Blackie. The last time I saw him-several hours after he had died-lying on his bed, stiff and hard. Traces of blood in his mouth, his ears firm against his head, his tail rigid. His black body that was usually so soft and welcoming now seemed dark and ugly. They dug a 1ft. deep pit in the backyard at the foot of the mango tree, where all the cats he used to chase could see him.
He had choked on his food that night, Sharky. He suffered on his own though, not letting anyone help.
I cried like I never had before. After I had cried my eyes out, I didn’t know how to feel. Was I supposed to be sad all the time or was I supposed to just be happy and pretend like nothing was wrong? Would people mistake that happiness for ignorance; indifference?
But maybe the purpose of Sharky’s existence in my life was to teach me how to love. And once he had accomplished his mission, he had left. Right now he is probably teaching some other little girl, in some corner of the world, how to love.
Oreo came exactly a month later. He was different. I found myself comparing everything he did to Sharky. It will never be the same; Oreo will never replace Sharky, but he deserves my love just the same. The loss of a first pet is never easy, but there are harder things in life and I know it is these experiences that will help me get through them.
Beautiful! Well written.
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