



This little puppy stayed with us for just over a day or so, but that was enough for me to learn to like him, and immensely. Each hour would hardly pass without my thoughts straying his way: was he hungry? did he sleep enough? why did he look so sad? why didn't he bark? was he a he or a she? To this day, I still wonder if he was really a he. We didn't know whether he had a home or not, but he seemed toilet-trained. It was funny how he would strut to the grass and do his tiny business after every munch and slurp. It was adorable, the way he'd roll around in the grass and play snap-munch at things that couldn't be seen by weak human eyes.


He was so hungry, he would lick his plastic aeroplane cup even though it was all out of milk and bread. Then continued licking it slowly and noisily across the floor, tiny curious nose still attached to the bottom of the cup.

He must have been very sleepy, because he spent most of his time snoozing. He was one smart puppy alright. He found our shoe rack, pushed aside all the offending footwear, and nuzzled himself into the corner, brown furry head atop one smelly old shoe. Slept as if there was nothing that bothered him. Without a care in the world.



One night it stormed. You see, I've never had a puppy before, so I forgot all about him. Minding my own business, I forgot all about him. Until the thunder sounded, then it suddenly hit me, quick as lightning, that maybe he was scared. Maybe it was the small whimper I heard, but I wondered if he would be alright. The next morning he was in his usual spot, hiding amongst the flower pots.


When I woke up from my afternoon nap, he was gone. One of the shopkeepers in the row of shops outside my house had decided they wanted to keep him. I didn't get to see him being taken away, and in a way, I'm glad I didn't. It would have broken my heart. As it is, my memories of this little puppy remain happy, but bittersweet, because I knew, even while I spent every minute playing with him, that he couldn't stay. So for that short period, I spent most of my time snapping pictures of him, trying to store away as many happy memories as I possibly could.

I had the opportunity to visit him in his new home about a week later. He was bigger, but he looked different. Less vulnerable. Less needy. He couldn't remember me, but I remembered the time when he used to follow me in that bouncy way of his, every time I stepped out of the door for a walk. You see, my memory may far outlast his, and his eyes might not light up in recognition when I call his name, but those days when he was staying just beneath our windows, a mere call away... You see, those were my happy days.






