Chuchay died yesterday. She was the youngest member of our family; a pup my mother took in a while back. She got hit by some vehicle at around 2 AM yesterday and came out with an injured leg. I have to admit, I was so annoyed back then since all the ruckus ruined my sleep–and I had just fallen asleep a few hours before the incident. This, plus the fact that I am a cat person, makes me look like some cold-hearted bitch.
By morning, though, I woke up to her and she’s not breathing. It seemed like she died a few hours back since rigor mortis has set in. The mother, who was out, told us to bury her. And so we did.
I was on digging duty while my sister carried the body. My hands started feeling raw as I dug, and eventually, I felt sad that Chuchay died. Oftentimes I was annoyed at her since she always gnawed on my slippers and then hides them after–well, she gnaws on practically anything. And it was hard work keeping her off my chargers. But her energy was really something to watch. And it was cute how she slept on her back with her legs up in the air, kind of like a turkey for Thanksgiving.
So, Chuchay, wherever you are, I wish you’re okay. And that you have all the slippers and wires you can gnaw on. Know that even though we always fought for my slippers and pant legs, I still love you in my own dog-awkward way.