Saturday, January 03, 2009

If Only.

When I was seven or eight, I used to be bullied at school and be a loner at my home. My parents are very busy. Yeah, all I can see is their bright laptops and briefcase. They scarcely notice my presence at house. I barely see them in the house, except for my nanny, who always talks on the wireless phone all day and all night.

In school I don’t have friends. They always tease me. Alright, call me loser and beaner. I used to wear thick glasses and I’m fragile and docile. Those big guys love to bully me. But anyway, I’m getting used to that life. Call me a masochist but I do not have a choice. My teachers were already worried about my state but I always say that I’m okay.

Deep inside, I felt the deepest seclusion in my life. I thought my life would be like this forever.

Until one Saturday morning, while doing the usual weekend morning, I heard this guttural cry in the garden. I got scared, thinking it was the boogey man that attacks every morning. Then I called nanny.

It was not a boogey man, it was just a puppy. A lone puppy. I don’t know where the heck that puppy came from. When the puppy saw me, he ran on to me and licked my right foot.

I adopted him, of course. With the help of nanny, we raised him and named him Pooch. Well, the name kinda sucks but well, I think it’s cute.

Pooch grew exponentially. He’s very fond of me. And then I felt this odd feeling, the feeling that I’ve never felt in my whole eight years of existence. I felt that I was not alone anymore. He continued to grow and eventually became my very first friend, my one and only best friend in the whole world.

Over the years, I always felt the excitement during dismissal time since I’m going to meet Pooch. I don’t care if those scoundrels would bully me after all they have found a new victim.

Every week, I bathe him and sometimes play with him.
Every afternoon, I always take him for a walk in the park.
Every day, I talk to him. I don’t care if he doesn’t understand me, as long as he looks to me.

But sometimes, as years go by, I grew tired. I sometimes forgot to talk to him, take him for a walk or bathe him.

When I turned fifteen, I have come to realize that my life wasn’t a waste, after all. I grew how to socialize with people. I knew how to balance my life.

I totally forgot Pooch. Even if I sometimes forgot that he is still there (though I don’t forget feeding and giving him drinking water in his house), he’s still there, waiting for me in the front lawn. He would always lick my right foot whenever I arrive either from school or work.

As usual, I got bored.

And then one weekend, I noticed that the house was silent. Nanny had gone to vacation. I thought of having Pooch for a walk, after all it’s been a long time since his last walk in the park. So I went outside.

I called him.
He didn’t respond.
I called him again.
Still no response from my first best friend…
I went in his place, but found no trace of Pooch.

I began to be anxious and worried about him. So I went down on the street, asking some locals if they had found a big brown dog. Unfortunately, they haven’t seen the big brown friendly dog. I even contacted the local dog pound but I didn’t find any luck.

Days and weeks have passed, still no sign of Pooch. Eventually, I felt the deep sadness that once evoked my childhood days. I began to ponder the things that I’ve missed about Pooch.

I regret those days when I became lazy to talk to him.
I regret those days when I didn’t take him for a walk.
I regret the days when I made him lonely.
I regret almost everything.

If only I could turn back time and changed those dull days of ours.

‘Til now, he didn’t return but I finally accept the fact that it would be implausible to see him again. I miss Pooch – his warm body and thick fur envelops my sadness and despair.

His friendly bark would forever resound on my memory.

Pooch is the only living thing that made me realize that life doesn’t end at a solitary point.

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