The vibrant blue color of the "👨💻 ASEAN Hive Community Challenge #153 🐠 Photography: Into The Blue" contest announcement mocked the deep, heavy blue that settled over me. It was a blue so profound, it seemed to suffocate me, a stark contrast to the joy the announcement was meant to inspire. You may wonder why. Because my beloved Spring, my good dog, is gravely ill while I am writing this blog.
This was meant to be a happy story about friendship and bonding, but while I was writing the story, my dog was panting heavily beside me, gasping for breath. I paused for a while and talked to him then continue but the story was altered. The vibrant images of the Greek Hills were now stained with the hues of Spring's fading life.
Spring, a dog of unparalleled goodness and intelligence, had fallen ill. I hadn't noticed any changes in him in the previous months. His illness cast a shadow over everything, turning even the brightest sunlight to a muted, melancholic blue. He was more than just a pet to me and my children, he was family. His unwavering loyalty, his gentle spirit, his uncanny ability to find his way home—even after a mysterious disappearance where he followed the canal, crying near our home so that I would notice him—until I found him, are all etched in my heart. I remember the frantic search, the agonizing wait, the relief of finding him whimpering by the water's edge, and when I found him, I could not get him without his cooperation. He tried to stand in the middle of the canal so that I could take hold of his two feet.
But what stands out most vividly is his boundless gratitude. He wagged his tail to let you know that he was grateful. Every kindness, every treat, every scratch behind the ears was met with exuberant joy. He'd jump and twirl, a furry little dancer expressing his thanks with boundless enthusiasm. Those little dances, those joyous leaps, are now precious memories, tinged with the blue of sorrow but also warmed by the golden glow of love. All of it is just a painful memory because while I was writing this, he wagged his tail, gave a sigh, and breathed his last breath.
The photographs I took while travelling to Greekhills, once symbols of carefree adventures, peace, serenity, and relaxation, now take on a new meaning.
The blues in those pictures—the deep azure of the sky, the structures decorated in a style reminiscent of Greek architecture and design in blue and white—mirror the complexities of my grief.The blue feels serene, a gentle reminder of Spring’s joyful spirit, of the many happy walks we shared, of those ecstatic little dances, and the loyalty and faithfulness he had to us.
But now it's a somber, almost oppressive blue, reflecting the crushing weight of my loss. His absence has left us lonely, it seems like there is a gaping hole, a void painted in shades of blue. The happy times we felt when the sky was blue while we were walking together are gone. A blue mood is now coldness and emptiness.
Spring's passing has left an ache in my heart, a pain that made me cry, reminiscing about how he behaved when he was still alive. The way he behaved even when he was in pain. He didn't want to disturb me or leave me something to clean up. He tried to poop and pee outside even if he was so weak—a constant reminder of the love he had for me. But amidst the sadness, there's also a quiet peace. The memories, like the varied blues of the sky and sea, remain. The sun-drenched days, the playful antics, the joyful dances, and the unwavering love in his big, brown eyes. The blue remains, a poignant reminder of Spring, my good boy, my smart dog, my family, whose grateful spirit continues to dance in my heart.
