An Ode to Sheriff

About a week ago, my pet dog of twelve years passed away. In my piece, I attempt to trace out his long, exciting, and loving life.

Until this morning, I don't think I had fully felt the realness of your loss. All night I was awake in a cold silence - I couldn’t hear you breathing, sneezing, burping, or foraging around the garden looking for god-knows-what. But this morning, when I saw V stumble down the staircase, and absentmindedly look for you in the garden; I realised that you weren’t there, and you were never going to.

Getting into the house and outside is easy now. (read boring). I still imagine you trying to nose-poke your way in, and run to your food corner. You’d grab an entire loaf of bread, and then get cornered by me inside. You never thought about getting out. Twenty minutes of coaxing, and half a loaf of bread later, you would mischievously slink outside, pretending like you hadn’t made a mess. I would clean up all the fallen crumbs and your doggy drool and laugh to myself, “How did you become such a foody!”

During summer, when the jamun trees bore fruit, you would spend all evening eating the fallen fruit., and then sing at 3 AM, because you needed to poop - all the extra fruit you ate. I thought you’d learn not to eat so much, but you never did. Summers for you was eating jamun, and pooping jamun. I remember your tongue turning purple because of the fruit; you didn't like the sensation it created on your tongue - all dense and flabby, You’d make a strange lick-y noise, but that did not stop you from continuing to eat them. V and I would joke that you were becoming a jamun too, just dark black instead of dark blue.

If the cook did not leave at 6 - which meant you couldn’t curl up in your spot on the front porch, you would start squealing symphonies - the ten seasons. In the morning you had to go out for a walk at 5. And after that you would run around the garden, try to sneak inside the house, bark, pant, scratch, dig, make a lot of noise and wake everyone up. Your most favourite part of the day was meal time. You would sit patiently in the balcony, ears propped up to hear Big - D’s footsteps, bringing you your food.

When ajji-thatha came home though you made sure you were on your best behaviour. I guess it was all the treats they gave you. They would pamper you, pet you, and even sing for you. When they stayed over for a couple of weeks, while all of us were away, I know you kept them company, and curled up near them. You were such a warm ball.

When V and I used to play football, you would always want the ball. We would kick it across to each other and make you run behind it. Within minutes you would grab the ball and proceed to rip it apart. We’ve gone through so many footballs because of you. I remember the time V and his friends had come over. While they were playing, one of them accidentally kicked the ball too hard. The ball hit the  brand new bird bath, it fell to the ground and broke into several pieces. V, his friends and I were scared to tell Amma and Appa. So we decided to say you broke it.

Of course when we told Amma and Appa you broke it, they didn't mind at all. They thought they should’ve picked a better place to keep the bird bath. You got several extra pats that day, and even a thorough brushing to make sure you weren't hurt. You love attention and that day you got plenty of it. I remember the time I tried to feed a street dog some bread, and you got super jealous. You were bark-whining and running in circles. You couldn't bear not being the centre of attention.

When we’d go hiking, you always wanted to lead. You would sniff so hard, I often thought you forgot to breathe out. You would stray away from the path, and appear out of nowhere several minutes later with strange things in your mouth: a cow’s bone, a red slipper, a piece of a car tyre. You liked to lead, but never left anyone behind. Every time someone stopped to tie their shoe-lace, or pluck seeds from their clothes, you would run to them, and scamper around them until they got moving again.

I miss you so much, it’s only been a day since you left. The garden is flowering but is bare without you, and the house is dull. I was wrong when I said you were never going to be in the garden again, you are here now, and will always be a part of this house - the house we grew up in.