Just tonight, I watched a video on the site of another friend. It had something to do with pets and, hell, I had to check it out. I expected to see funny pix but what I got was a poignant video that almost made me bawl.
I always loved my pets and I am a doting mommie to my dogs. But when I watched the video (and until now that I'm writing this), I broke down because I remembered how the most precious of all my pets was taken away from me.
He died last year, during Typhoon Frank. He didn't drown like the others. He died because of the water that got into his lungs and there was no way he could have recovered. But the fact that he died when the waters had receded and I was out of harm's way was what really breaks me to pieces whenever I remember his name.
It was a night that I thought I would die, recalling that the waters got into my house and he was there with us, on a chair, shivering and still managing to bark. But when it was his time to go, I couldn't bear to watch. We said our goodbyes the night before he died. He was looking at me in sad relief that my family is ok, that I am ok. And in the morning he was gone while I was at work. I wish I had a lock of his fur to keep. But I am thankful of the memories that I was loved by him.
I love you, Kyle. I miss you.
