To my dog
I used to have a dog. His name was Baxter. WE picked him up as u puppy by the road side when i was about 6 years old. He was placed in a box among his siblings, about 6 of them if i remember correctly. My brother chose what he thought the one he thought was the most handsome. For some reason, it had to be a male dog.I was really happy having a dog. I used to carry him in my arms all the time until one day i suddenly couldnt carry him anymore. He was growing up faster than me!
I enjoyed patting the dog the most, although he wasnt a very well trained dog. I liked lying down on the floor with him and feeling his soft fur on my face.
I dont remember every thing that happened with that dog except a few things.
1st one, my friend was over at my house and i was patting and playing with my dog. My friend wanted to touch him, but he was afraid. I assured him that my dog would not bite him. So my friend ventured forward to touch him only to be bitten in the lips by Baxter. My friend, holding his bleeding lips, ran straight home. His mother forbid him from talking to me ever again,
2nd, my dog never liked people touching him when he ate. He would growl whenever i went near. One day, as he was eating, my father went over to pet him and to my great surprise, he didnt do anything. "Wow, my dog has improved!" i thought. SO i went over to pet him, only to suffer the same fate as my friend, except this time it was on the stomach and it left a small scar.
3rd, my mother wanted to pay a visit to my relatives. She refused to let my dog come along and just left him there, insisting that he could take care of himself. When our bus arrived, Baxter actually came running to us and tried boarding the bus with us, but since it wasnt allowed, we had to push him down the bus. As the bus left, i could see him chasing after the bus from the back until he couldnt keep up. I admit, at 6 years old, that incident brought me to tears. Having to push him down and watch him chase after us was kind of heavy emotionally.
Last memory was when my mother, at a whim suddenly wanted to move to KL. Since she didnt allow my dog to come along, we had to give him away. My neighbour had a friend who was willing to take the dog. The last memory of that dog i had was my brother bringing him up the car, and me thinking i will never see him again, never touching his soft fur again or rolling on the floor with him again.
Goodbye baxter. Thank you for the memories.
posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 11:53 am
Comments: 1
