traversing across a rainbow bridge
we lost our second dog today.
sherlock, my aunt’s darling boy, passed at 4:20 in the morning. at 3am, she knocked on my door saying the fateful words—i think sherlock’s dying. it was like my whole world came to a stop.
he died in her arms.
10 and a half beautiful years of his company. our kind, kind sherlock who sometimes snapped at us when we kissed him too much. our darling, darling boy who was great at finding toys we’d hide from him; who liked to eat the cheese crackers my grandma fed him when no one was looking.
he had chronic heart failure. we were counting down the months, really, but nothing could’ve ever prepared me for that 3am knock, his fading heartbeat, and his little eyes that wouldn’t close.
ten years ago today, my aunt’s dog quli—a botched attempt of naming him 去来, a dog who went and came—also passed. he had epilepsy, and in a house that was more oven than it was a home, his odds weren’t the best.
my own dog picasso spent all morning and afternoon searching for sherlock. he barked his poor little head off the whole day, searching for his companion of 10 years. we brought him to my aunt’s room, where he sniffed at everything in search for a little brown and white chihuahua, only to be met with an empty bed and nothing more.
my mom looked at him this evening, eyes glistening as she said “you’re always being left behind.”
quli was his half brother; they shared the same dad, but not the same mom. they stayed on two opposite ends of the room, but they were each other’s keepers for four years. he and sherlock stayed side by side, just a few inches away from each other. it stayed like that for ten years and then some.
now, he’s all alone. we have another dog, our youngest casper, and we have a cat—skye, but he’s not as close to them as he was with sherlock.
my whole household feels like we’d just lost a limb. our nighttime routine has been disrupted, and so has our daytime. there are notes on medication dosages, prescription, feeding schedules, that are now useless because there’s no one to look after.
it’s hard losing a pet, especially one you’ve loved for 10 or so years.
picasso, mom says you’re always being left behind. it’s okay, i’m here. we’ll be fine as long as we’re together.
sherlock, thank you for the 10-and-a-half years of joy. our handsome, snippy little prince, go say hi to grandma for us, okay?
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
a song.