Rocky

This past week I've been struggling with some difficult decisions about what to do with regards to Rocky's illness. And even though I never even thought to bring this before God, He has sent me angels to let me know that He is in this with me too -- nothing is too small.

I couldn't cover all of my feelings for this soul mate who has literally grown up with me, even if I wanted to. 15 years -- wow, I should be thankful. And I am. I really, truly, am. But the thought of losing him... how will I ever come to terms with that?

I realise that some people will think this train of thoughts silly or ridiculous, even blasphemous, considering the human lives that have been lost; here I am, mourning over the possible death of a dog who is past his expiry date. But this is mine -- my dog, my struggle, and one day, my tragedy and my tears.

And yet, even in the midst of much pain and confusion, God has reminded me that I'm not the only one in this, and that this dog that He has sent me has touched more lives that I know.

I got a dog recipe book for my birthday yesterday, along with a card that reminisced one faithful day some years ago. Portugal had lost in the World Cup, and H, being an ardent fan, was over at my place, along with some other friends, witnessing their demise. As she sobbed, she clung on to Rocky and refused to let him go -- we couldn't help but laugh. And Rocky, as if on cue, stayed still and let himself be hugged, clueless as he was to what was going on. The thing about Rocky is that, affectionate as he is, he does not like to be held in one place for long periods. But this day, he stayed. He stayed, and my friend was comforted.

Tonight, I talked with X for the first time about my dilemma and struggle with deciding the best course of action to take, and my fear of making the wrong decision. In the midst of my crying, she chuckled.

"Remember the time we painted your room?"

"What about that?"

"We had this tray of paint on the floor, and Rocky wandered into the room..."

"... and we told him not to step into the paint!"

"But he did, and he..."

"... left his paw prints all over my room!"

We were breathless and doubled over in laughter at the memory. You really had to be there. One dog, standing at the end of a long trail of paw prints, totally oblivious to four girls who were screaming at him to stop walking.

In laughter and in tears, he was there -- and not just for me too. Thank you for sharing these long-forgotten stories with me. And thank you for loving Rocky in your own ways.

***

Earlier tonight, my brother asked my dad the question that I never did dare ask.

"Do dogs go to heaven?"

"I believe that all animals will return to God, yes," my dad answered.

And that actually made sense to me -- after all, God made them dogs, didn't He?

I didn't dare to ask because I told myself that it didn't really matter. I didn't want to talk myself into believing something untrue just because it served me comfort.

But hey, John saw horses in heaven, didn't he? And yet, again, it doesn't matter -- I can't do anything about what happens to Rocky after he is gone from here. I can only love him while he is.