Dear Diesel,

I finally understood the saying, “Men don’t deserve dogs.”

When you came to live with us last year during Chinese New Year, I never knew how my life would change.

We were entrusted by your papa to take care of you as he was unable to be with you on a regular basis.

Who knew, turns out you also took care of us and taught us some important lessons as well.

The past 2 weeks have been really tough for all of us.

It pained me to see you struggle from unannounced seizures that caused a string of physical health deterioration for you.

Yet, you fought hard and strong, living each second on your terms.

Your eyes glowed at the sight of food even though your body was throwing them out of your system.

You insisted on standing up on your limbs even though your hind legs were too weak to support you.

You rose each time you fell to the ground.

You put us first even though you were suffering and feeling sad.

You’ve taught me loyalty, faithfulness and unconditional love.

You’ve also taught me to live with hope and passion (like how you are passionate about food).

You’ve also taught me to cherish every moment with the ones I love.

I’m thankful that we did our best to care and love you while you were still around.

I’m glad we got to be part of your life and to see you off together.

Now you’re gone.

Finally off to play freely in the land with yummy food, green grass, grey stone benches and great friends!

I’ll miss seeing a black thing at the corner of my eyes following me everywhere.

I’ll miss the sound you make and the puppy eyes you have (even though you’re already an old dog) when I’m eating, begging me to share my food with you.

I’ll miss your cute little farts that sounded like some air slowly escaping a balloon.

I’ll miss you rubbing your head in my hands and your body on our sofa and clothes.

I’ll miss blow drying you after your shower and running around the house with you.

I’ll miss the way you make your bed and lying on the rug instead.

I’ll miss your barks and the way you greet me when I’m home.

I’ll miss your little snore.

I’ll miss our walks.

I’ll miss how you’d silently sit next to me whenever I’m unwell or dissociating as if you’re protecting and comforting me.

I’m missing you dearly.

You are family, now and forever. You’d continue to live within our hearts and memories.

I’d see you again one day at the rainbow bridge. Meanwhile, I’d continue to live strong for you, I promise.

With love,
Godma

___________

7 March will never be the same.
Fuck, who knew grieving would be this hard?