My first encounter with the death of a loved one was my first dog's death. What was even more traumatizing is that I blamed myself for her painful passing. I was so guilty and hurt that it took me fifteen long years to get a new dog.
I was eleven then. My family and I visited my uncle to eat some of his newly harvested Durian. Despite the fruit being my favorite, I was constantly distracted from eating by the cute little puppies playing under the table. One of the puppies stood out to me. She has hair richly colored as brown sugar, almost gold in the sun. Her hazel eyes were the prettiest pair of eyes I have seen in my young life. They were more beautiful than most people's eyes I have known. When she looks at me, I remember thinking she knows she is a beautiful dog. She was also the sweetest among her siblings. She always stuck with me while the others are playing. My aunt, who sensed right away that I was drawn to the pup, gave her to me. That day, I named my first-ever dog Sugar.
I loved Sugar, but honestly, I did not know a thing about taking care of a dog. She had no training and no proper health care, and I guess I gave her food that is bad for dogs. I did not know there was still something I would do worse for Sugar.
One night, when Sugar was already an adult, I heard her wailing in pain (or so I thought). I hurriedly got up from bed, looked out the window to check if it was her, and I found her with another dog. Each of them was facing opposite directions and their butts were stuck together. They were mating and I did not know it was mating! I thought Sugar was under some kind of attack from this other dog and she needed my help. I screamed and shooed at the male dog as loud as I could. He was so scared and shocked that he ran so fast dragging Sugar a few meters away before they were physically separated. I felt like a hero that night. What an idiot!
A few weeks later, I observed a terrible swelling of Sugar's vulva. Unfortunately, our family was the poorest we have been at that time, so Sugar was never brought to the vet to be treated. She stopped being cheerful. She became too tired to meet me on the street when I got home from school. Not long after, she stopped eating. The swelling got worse and drops of blood spilled from it. I knew then she was not getting better. She was dying and it was my fault.
During her last days, I would sit beside her and pet her gently. I would stare into her eyes which are still the prettiest and I would whisper "sorry, Sug". I blamed myself (still am) and hated myself for not taking enough care of her. However, everytime I looked at her I remember thinking she loved me still.
I found her lifeless on the doorstep. My tiny body was overwhelmed by new but negative emotions. I wanted to scream and cry, but the thought that I was responsible left me frozen in the corner. My papa buried her near my favorite plant, a yellow Gumamela. Since then I never dared to get another dog until this year when I met Ash, a gray-colored Aspin.
Photo by cloflo
Photo by cloflo
Sugar was one of the best and most painful lessons I learned in my childhood. Hopefully, I will become a much better doggo momma and not mess things up for Ash and the future pets I will have.
