After 4 months, Patchi went to her sister’s new home
In conjunction with last night’s blog, my other beloved dog, Patchi, went to her sister’s paradise. I don’t really know what got to her but I’m happy God granted my sincerest prayer: To take her to a far place where pain is nonexistent.
It all happened so fast. My brother woke me up, screaming, telling me how Patchi seemed to be shaking while on the ground, staring into nothing. I jumped up from my bed and went to her immediately. I saw her and she was just there; doing nothing, breathing pretty hard. I checked her eyes and they almost seemed like they didn’t see me. This exact same scenario happened to Potchi except her pain was prolonged since she had a different disease. Patchi seemed to know how to take the pain for she wasn’t yelping at all. Or maybe she lost the ability to yelp, together with the ability to bark. I don’t know.
I went and got the dextrose powder, mixed it in water, grabbed my syringe, and tried to make her drink. She wouldn’t even lick her mouth, just like Potchi did. It was all becoming too grim, I guess. I wouldn’t accept it, though.
It was 0700 in the morning and I figured I could somehow get a vet and get some painkillers. I already acknowledged the fact that it was too late but I figured I’d want to take the pain away, somehow. So I got my wallet and rented a tricycle to go to the village vet. As I arrived, as if God was giving me a sign, the vet’s clinic was closed. I remembered that they open at 0900. I tried to go to other vets but they were all still closed until 0900.
“Crap! Not again!” I told myself. “Why is it that when my dogs really need me, I couldn’t provide for them?” I continued on venting my frustration against my inability to be a good owner. I thought I should wait for the clinic to open. So I stood there, wanting time to go by faster. A few minutes, though, my dad tried to call me but I wouldn’t hear it. I gave him the busy tone. I figured it was another scolding, rather, I wanted it to be another scolding, not some other message. A few minutes after that, I saw dad driving the car to pick me up. He scolded me and then told me that Patchi’s gone and how it would’ve been such a waste to pay the vet just to see a dead dog.
I balled my hands into a fist and stared at the road ahead. I was sad and frustrated at the same time. But then I was thankful since I prayed hard that God would take her away ASAP because I couldn’t stand to see someone I care for in pain. I just couldn’t. Potchi had a strong will which made her survive for two weeks, two weeks of me seeing her slowly waste away. So I’m a bit thankful that Patchi wasn’t that strong to begin with.
I was touched by her expression last night, though. When I was still nursing her, she’d give some resistance and show sudden spurts of energy. And just before I called it a night, she was looking at me while wagging her tail, as if to tell me that she’ll be okay and that I can sleep already. I petted her and gently massaged her head, neck, and body. I now realize that until the very end, she chose to make me happy; to use that perpetual smile I always loved seeing, making my fatigue go away. She’d also always watch me while I work out. Which in turn, I’d watch her in fear of me hitting her with a kettlebell when I’d swing it. She would always come to me whenever I would actually call her, even if she was in a hurry to go outside. I even looked forward to making her jog with me in the morning and we could make a stop over Potchi’s grave site. I’ve always wanted a dog that would accompany me in my outside activities and for a brief moment in time, Potchi and Patchi did, even more for Patchi since I never had to chase her because she would be the one following me.
I guess I knew it was coming. Just before I slept, I cut a bunch of hair and kept it in plastic, just like I did with Potchi. I’m that sensitive and I’m not ashamed to admit it. My only regret is that I was unable to get her picture on her last days since I believed she would still watch the fireworks with me atop the newly built 2nd floor of the house. But I guess she was in a hurry to get out as she always was when I’d open the gates for her.
She feared leaving without me seeing her off but this time was different. I guess both my dogs would rather go unnoticed, making sure I don’t see them in their sad state. And I appreciate that from them.
I mean, I appreciate them for tolerating my incompetence as their owner for the last 10-12 years. I loved them both and they both loved me back unconditionally. I’d tell them my stories and they made it seem that they cared and understood my jabbering.
Dad told me to throw their food dish and water bowl away to the garbage trucks that would arrive later. I then had a thought. For the past decade, my two dogs would sometimes eat off that very same dish and drink from that very same water bowl despite the fact that I provided duplicates. I’ll kinda miss their voracious appetite, specially when I’d bring home chicken bones or extra pork ribs. And they’d fight over them and I’ll end up stopping them from literally biting each other’s ears off. And when they’d have left overs, a bunch of birds would come pecking at their dishes and it would be totally okay for them despite their instinct to kill smaller animals.
I personally handed the dish and bowl to the truckers. I stared at it long enough and figured I’ll have no need for it. I think, however, that Patchi tried to eat this morning since a piece of chicken bone was lying on the ground. I fasted her for one and a half day, trying to ease what I assumed to be Pancreatitis but I guess I’m not vet material at all. I would’ve taken her last night but I was so damn convinced that it was a simple case of her having ate something or ate too much that I didn’t even notice how she felt like she was dying. Or I guess, she was good in concealing her pain, just as Potchi did.
Now I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I wouldn’t have to bring home extra food or take home some left over bones from lunch. I wouldn’t have to worry about my dogs being cold and wet when it’s raining and getting all hot and feverish when it’s very hot. I wouldn’t have to worry about taking a family outing because I wouldn’t have a dog to leave and be hungry.
And although I wouldn’t have to worry about them, I’ll ALWAYS miss cleaning up after them, feeding them, bathing them, grooming them, petting them, talking to them, and hugging them and playing with them.
Patchi, in particular, would always be game when I would pretend-box her. She’d sway her head to the direction of my fist as if she actually gets hit. And she’d try to fight back with her left paw swinging up and down in the air, as if jabbing me too. She was such a kid as Potchi was an adult.
And now I’m without friends at home. I treated them as part of the family. I considered them long distance relatives. Now they both went to heaven, waiting for me. I just hope they forgive me for not being there for them or for being a useless and incompetent owner. I just pray that they would still watch over me from a place so high up that I can’t see them anymore.
Potchi, Patchi, thank you for being with me this past decade or so. I’ll always love you and I’ll always miss you. Take care, you two. Don’t go running around too much in heaven. Specially you, Patchi-chi. I’ll never forget how scared you would always get when confronted with a spoon or a pillow. I’ll also particularly miss your panicking when I get you inside the house, always scared of being in a place you thought you’re not allowed in. Potchi, take care of your little sister, okay? Teach her stuff you learned there and tell her to be brave because I won’t be there to be brave for her.
I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of you girls. I made promises that I failed to keep. I apologize, specially because I gave you pain and you still gave me love. You’ll always be in my heart. I promise, and this time I’ll keep it, to never EVER forget you two and the memories we shared.
Please, when I go there, greet me as you would always greet me when I get home from school, a night out, and work. Until then, please watch over me and the family. Thank you for everything. Both of you, please rest in peace. I love you. See you soon. Goodbye.