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25-04-2017, 02:10 PM
An honorable member of the Coffee Shop Has Just Posted the Following:
Well, I don't think my post will be as "enigmatic" as my thread's title suggests... I have been thinking a lot, grieving, and I thought it's best I write it out, somewhere, anywhere and whatever makes me feel better to let my feelings out, instead of thinking about inane rubbish like the future of data messaging to keep my minds off grief.
Fifteen years ago, I decided to get myself a companion. I walked into a pet shop at Thomson Road area. A 6 month old dog caught my attention. While the other dogs were relentlessly barking away, Rascal (a name which I subsequently gave him) was in a sitting in an upright position, with his eyes deeply focused on me, speaking to me and pleading with me to bring him home. Without hesitation, I chose him. The pet shop revealed that Rascal is an Aussie breed Schnauzer SKC certified pedigree and all his brothers and sisters had already found their homes. He added that it was "challenging" to find Rascal a home, as his vision was slightly defective due to convergent strabismus.
Rascal was a timid boy when I brought him home. If we were walking on cement floor in the garden, he would stop and refuse to move if the floor ahead of him were cobbered pavements, or of a different colour or texture. Well, through a passage of time, with conditioning and trust in me, he overcame his "fears" and we build a great friendship that lasted for 15 years.
Rascal was my alarm clock. Without fail, every morning at about 7.15am, he would jump up my bed and pawed at me. In my dreamy stupor, I would hobble to the kitchen, opened the fridge and prepared his salmon breakfast. He would look intently at the "chef" preparing his first meal of the day. By the time he's done gobbling, I would clean his mouth, eyes and gave him a short massage which he thoroughly enjoyed. It took me some time to housebreak Rascal, but eventually he knew that his waste tray was where he needed to do all his potty business.
Life was blissful with Rascal by my side. On weekends, he would happily hop into the car while I drove to Botanical Gardens or other parks for a stroll. He doesn't need to be leashed as he would follow behind me while we walked, save for his occasional pee stops, smell stops and poo stops.
Time flies. Eventually, Rascal grew old. I knew my fifteen years companionship with him was coming to an end as he became very ill a few days ago, unable to eat, poo, or even walk without assistance. The vet told me I have to make the "difficult" decision, as his quality of life has diminshed beyond palliative care. So, the other day, I made the final decision to have Rascal "put down".
Laying Rascal on the vet's stainless steel table, he had a blanket wrapped around him. I petted Rascal gently and spoke to him as the vet prepared the injection. I told him I would see him in heaven as all dogs go to heaven and that he would need to wait for me for a while over there. I told him to be a good boy and do not litter around indiscriminately and make new friends with the other dogs over there. The vet did what he had to do. Rascal laid there quietly for a few seconds, and just before the lethal dose hits him, Rascal moved his head, gazed at my eyes, and I felt him saying goodbye, and his eyes closed for the very last time.
Well, tears rolled in my eyes, then, and each time I recall his earthly exit. Even now as I write, I can't hold back my tears for Rascal, who has been my friend, my companion, my happy moments.
Will I see Rascal again? Deep in me, my intuition says I will.
Good boy Rascal. Stay happy and make new friends. Even if I don't get to see you again, be a good boy and be adaptable to the change of environment.
Always love you, Rascal.
Click here to view the whole thread at www.sammyboy.com (https://sammyboy.com/showthread.php?243048-Will-we-meet-again&goto=newpost).
Well, I don't think my post will be as "enigmatic" as my thread's title suggests... I have been thinking a lot, grieving, and I thought it's best I write it out, somewhere, anywhere and whatever makes me feel better to let my feelings out, instead of thinking about inane rubbish like the future of data messaging to keep my minds off grief.
Fifteen years ago, I decided to get myself a companion. I walked into a pet shop at Thomson Road area. A 6 month old dog caught my attention. While the other dogs were relentlessly barking away, Rascal (a name which I subsequently gave him) was in a sitting in an upright position, with his eyes deeply focused on me, speaking to me and pleading with me to bring him home. Without hesitation, I chose him. The pet shop revealed that Rascal is an Aussie breed Schnauzer SKC certified pedigree and all his brothers and sisters had already found their homes. He added that it was "challenging" to find Rascal a home, as his vision was slightly defective due to convergent strabismus.
Rascal was a timid boy when I brought him home. If we were walking on cement floor in the garden, he would stop and refuse to move if the floor ahead of him were cobbered pavements, or of a different colour or texture. Well, through a passage of time, with conditioning and trust in me, he overcame his "fears" and we build a great friendship that lasted for 15 years.
Rascal was my alarm clock. Without fail, every morning at about 7.15am, he would jump up my bed and pawed at me. In my dreamy stupor, I would hobble to the kitchen, opened the fridge and prepared his salmon breakfast. He would look intently at the "chef" preparing his first meal of the day. By the time he's done gobbling, I would clean his mouth, eyes and gave him a short massage which he thoroughly enjoyed. It took me some time to housebreak Rascal, but eventually he knew that his waste tray was where he needed to do all his potty business.
Life was blissful with Rascal by my side. On weekends, he would happily hop into the car while I drove to Botanical Gardens or other parks for a stroll. He doesn't need to be leashed as he would follow behind me while we walked, save for his occasional pee stops, smell stops and poo stops.
Time flies. Eventually, Rascal grew old. I knew my fifteen years companionship with him was coming to an end as he became very ill a few days ago, unable to eat, poo, or even walk without assistance. The vet told me I have to make the "difficult" decision, as his quality of life has diminshed beyond palliative care. So, the other day, I made the final decision to have Rascal "put down".
Laying Rascal on the vet's stainless steel table, he had a blanket wrapped around him. I petted Rascal gently and spoke to him as the vet prepared the injection. I told him I would see him in heaven as all dogs go to heaven and that he would need to wait for me for a while over there. I told him to be a good boy and do not litter around indiscriminately and make new friends with the other dogs over there. The vet did what he had to do. Rascal laid there quietly for a few seconds, and just before the lethal dose hits him, Rascal moved his head, gazed at my eyes, and I felt him saying goodbye, and his eyes closed for the very last time.
Well, tears rolled in my eyes, then, and each time I recall his earthly exit. Even now as I write, I can't hold back my tears for Rascal, who has been my friend, my companion, my happy moments.
Will I see Rascal again? Deep in me, my intuition says I will.
Good boy Rascal. Stay happy and make new friends. Even if I don't get to see you again, be a good boy and be adaptable to the change of environment.
Always love you, Rascal.
Click here to view the whole thread at www.sammyboy.com (https://sammyboy.com/showthread.php?243048-Will-we-meet-again&goto=newpost).