Sunday, January 02, 2005

An Eulogy for Bobby

Bobby passed away earlier this morning, he was 12 years old.

Bobby was the one of the 5 puppies of my previous dog Ruby. We could only afford to keep one of them, the rest we had to give away. I wanted to keep Julie his sister, but my family voted on Bobby. I wasn't too pleased at that time; I could sense that he and me would not get along even when he was a tiny pup.

And I was proven right the next few years. For some reason, Bobby had this really annoying tendency to jump onto my bed and pee on it. At first, I tried to use gentle persuasion by scaring him and bringing him to the toilet everytime he did that. But it did not work. Everytime I came back from school I would find my bed soaked with his pee.

Finally I had enough and started beating the crap outta him with the cane each time he did it. Still he did not stop, he would continue peeing in my bed. And as soon as I came back from school he would immediately run and hide because he knew what was coming. But eventually (I think it took close to 4 months) he stopped doing that. Thank god because I was running out of mattresses to replace the soiled ones.

I guess it was his way of taking revenge on me for practicing all my WWF moves on him. I used to be a huge wrestling fan (hey this was 12 years ago you know), so I would do piledrivers and other silly moves on him. He would hate it but hell I was bigger than him so he couldn't do anything to stop me.

He used to love terrorizing cats, he would chase after strays whenever he saw one and I would be always afraid that one day he would hurt one of them. But then there was this incident that convinced me otherwise: I saw this really huge cat at the park one day while I was walking him, it was as big as a small dog I kid you not. As soon as Bobby saw it he made a dash for the poor animal. But the amazing thing was the cat didn't move, and Bobby crashed right into it. Then I heard a lot of yelping from Bobby and I figured he might have been scratched. I chased the cat away and hurriedly checked him for wounds - there were NONE! The bloody coward got freaked when the cat didn't budge and he started yelping like a pussy.

Eventually Ruby (his mom) passed away, think he was around 6 at the time. He took it really badly - he would bark and whine when no one was around in the house, especially in the afternoons when everyone is at work or school. I guess he found it hard to be alone after having his mum around all the time. My neighbours were the ones who actually alerted us to what he was doing because they were extremely loud and I think it was kinda annoying them.

Well call it fate or God's work, but a few months after Ruby passed away my dad found a dog at our doorstep. It was a shi tzu but it was really smelly and it had this really disgusting skin condition, it seemed to rotting. We took it to the vet and we found out it was a genetic hereditary condition that needed to be treated with shots every 2 months. Bobby had taken quite a liking to the little shi tzu, and apparently he stopped barking once he was around. So we decided to keep him and call him Boy.

The two had a fair amount of fights at first especially in the first year but after that they got pretty close. They did still fight over the food - mainly because of Bobby, that greedy bastard used to gulf down as much food as he could and steal Boy's, and this resulted in his gain in weight.

As age caught up with him, Bobby got more grumpy. He would be rather unfriendly to strangers unlike when he was younger. Also his health started deteriorating; he had developed a chronic cough and his sight was starting to go bad. But he still could walk fairly comfortably and only had problems moving around in the dark.

Early this morning I left for camp for Remedial Training, I had failed my annual physical fitness test last year. I got a call around 8 am that Bobby had apparently collapsed when my dad took him and Boy out for a walk. My dad carried him back home but before he entered the gate, Bobby started convulsing and foaming in the mouth. He was dead within a few minutes.

I guess it was his time to go. 12 years for a dog is pretty decent, his mom only lived up to 10. I would like to think he was fairly happy during those years, except the times when he got spanked/piledriver-ed by me. He has brought a lot of joy to our family, and I remember how I used to stroke his fur when I was upset because it used to calm me, and he would just sit and let me do it because he knew I was upset. Fine he probably stayed because it felt so good but hey its the effect that is important not the cause.

I am not sure how Boy would react to being alone now. I guess we have to see the next few days.

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