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The baby of our family was laid to rest yesterday, forever. As the light started to fade in the horizon, we draped him in a red bordered dhoti and lowered him in his final resting place. The crimson dahlia stood out ever so brightly among all the white tuberoses on his grave, just like the sparkle in Earl’s eyes. He went down without a woof, that ever wagging tail resting quietly on his soft bed. The bunch of incense burned brightly under the evening sky, filling the air with a surreal scent of solitude. I could sense that my Boy was peaceful in his eternal sleep. He would not stir to suffer any more.
He came to us, just twenty one days old, not so welcome by all. He went away when we wanted him more than ever before. He would not have lived this long, had it not been for his elder brother, Duke, the intelligent one, whom we had laid to rest in the same yard, exactly a year back. Earl suffered a parvo-viral attack, a potentially fatal one, when he was all but two months old. Duke had banged on our door at midnight to alert us and a timely medical intervention saved our baby’s life. The strapping young soul he grew up to be, belied all predictions, and what was supposed to be borrowed life, went on to become a celebration of gentleness, love, happiness and understanding.
Earl had never even barked at anyone, let alone intimidate. He would wag his tail the moment he heard our voices, showing his joy to be with his family and friends. His eyes would light up at our sight. Our Boy was as gentle as one could possibly ever expect one to be, happy-go-lucky, full of life, unflatteringly complementing even the slightest gestures of love. He instinctively knew how to adjust to moods and circumstances, without ever complaining. His mischief would sometimes make us laugh, sometimes anger us. As he grew older, he grew more introspective, matured beyond his age, but retained his boyish exuberance till he breathed his last. He had become lonely after Duke passed away, but veiled his grief with his childish antiques, just to help us get over that colossal loss. Earl, my baby, had overnight grown up into a mature soul, unnoticed and unsung, but ever more caring and loving. He knew that it was comforting for us to know that at least he was around, then.
He suffered much in his last few days as his kidneys gave up on him. No medicine could relieve him from his agony, but death. As the doctor left, seeing him minutes before he passed away, he climbed downstairs to say his last goodbye, and left forever, under the image of our Lord, at the break of the stairs.
The house seems so empty, almost eerie. Those haunting eyes and those unspoken words of solace is what I am missing most today, a day after he has left. Early was and is part of our lives, our happy days, our not-so-happy-days, our despair, our struggle and our rejoicing. You were in our minds before, now come and dwell in our hearts forever, my love. No adieu between us, never. You better rest in peace, Boy.
He came to us, just twenty one days old, not so welcome by all. He went away when we wanted him more than ever before. He would not have lived this long, had it not been for his elder brother, Duke, the intelligent one, whom we had laid to rest in the same yard, exactly a year back. Earl suffered a parvo-viral attack, a potentially fatal one, when he was all but two months old. Duke had banged on our door at midnight to alert us and a timely medical intervention saved our baby’s life. The strapping young soul he grew up to be, belied all predictions, and what was supposed to be borrowed life, went on to become a celebration of gentleness, love, happiness and understanding.
Earl had never even barked at anyone, let alone intimidate. He would wag his tail the moment he heard our voices, showing his joy to be with his family and friends. His eyes would light up at our sight. Our Boy was as gentle as one could possibly ever expect one to be, happy-go-lucky, full of life, unflatteringly complementing even the slightest gestures of love. He instinctively knew how to adjust to moods and circumstances, without ever complaining. His mischief would sometimes make us laugh, sometimes anger us. As he grew older, he grew more introspective, matured beyond his age, but retained his boyish exuberance till he breathed his last. He had become lonely after Duke passed away, but veiled his grief with his childish antiques, just to help us get over that colossal loss. Earl, my baby, had overnight grown up into a mature soul, unnoticed and unsung, but ever more caring and loving. He knew that it was comforting for us to know that at least he was around, then.
He suffered much in his last few days as his kidneys gave up on him. No medicine could relieve him from his agony, but death. As the doctor left, seeing him minutes before he passed away, he climbed downstairs to say his last goodbye, and left forever, under the image of our Lord, at the break of the stairs.
The house seems so empty, almost eerie. Those haunting eyes and those unspoken words of solace is what I am missing most today, a day after he has left. Early was and is part of our lives, our happy days, our not-so-happy-days, our despair, our struggle and our rejoicing. You were in our minds before, now come and dwell in our hearts forever, my love. No adieu between us, never. You better rest in peace, Boy.
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