A popular saying says that when God run out of wings, he uses tails. Would that mean dogs are angels with tails instead of wings? I believe they become part of our lives to cheer us up, and to not letting us being alone.
This is the story of my dog. This is the story of Negrito.
Negrito came to my life in September of 1999, and he stayed with us for 15 years. I was eight years old when my mom’s friend brought three puppies. I remember Negrito was so busy biting his brothers’ ears. We choose him for being so mischievous. We hid him under my bed and stole milk from dinner. My mom did not take long to realize we were up to something.
In the neighborhood, everybody knew him. He used to pee in every corner and bark to all other dogs in his path. He used to scared people who were passing by our front garden. He was strong, stubborn, playful, and unconditional.
His favorite place to lie down was wherever we were sitting already. The only alternative was to move or make space for him. If the spot were not comfortable enough, he would push us back. I imagine he preferred a warmed up sit.
He didn’t like green beans. Not at all. He wouldn’t eat pure rice, but he loved rice with gravy instead. His favorite meal was homemade Tagliatelle.
He will give you its paw if you have food in exchange. We tricked him so many times with a hand closed, but nothing inside. We could tell the disappointment in his eyes. I feel such as evil person now.
He could have jumped high to catch the ball in the air. An empty bottle of water represented one of his favorite toys and also the most disturbing noise for everybody around.
He was there. He was there when my parents left to the US in 2002 until 2008. He was there when we felt ourselves alone in the world. He was old, and he was losing its vision. He was still there supporting us, wagging his tail and leaking our tears. In 2008, he celebrated with us when my dad came back.
I still remember his gray paws and beard. I will always remember him folding back his paw before going to sleep. With a broken heart, we decided to let him go. With a broken heart, I remember him giving his last breathe with us. With a broken heart, I woke up at the next day wishing all to be a nightmare. I felt with no more tears to cry.
He is in the family picture. He will always be.
“As young as I look, I am growing older faster than he. Seven to one is the ratio; they tend to say. Whatever the number, I will pass him one day and take the lead, the way I do on our walks in the woods, and if this ever manages to cross his mind, it would be the sweetest shadow I have ever cast on snow or grass,” by Billy Collis.
I miss him. I will always do.