Kiki came to capture everyones eyes, attention and hearts. The little furball was just so hard to resist, even for me - I couldn't stand the idea of having him running around in my room. I remember on the first week that he came home, I was trying to leave the home. It kept barking everytime I opened the door to leave, and it took me so long to get out of the house. I was barely 5 minutes away from home when I began to tear, remembering its sad whines as I left home.
My hyper, energetic baby would always come to my room looking for scraps of food I dropped on the floor, or toys to play with. I'm sure it came to hate going for walks with me as I'd always make it run halfway across Bishan and back. And yet just spending time with Kiki made me feel like I could come to love life even more.
I knew all along that there would come a time when I wouldn't be able to part with Kiki. I just didn't think that time would come so soon. Should I be thankful that it's now and not any later, when it would simply kill me to leave it behind? I don't know.
Memories of Kiki before it fell ill seem so distant now. The first time I challenged myself to let it out of the cage when nobody was at home. When Dan came over for the first time and Kiki wouldn't stop chasing his foot. When I first took it out for a walk downstairs. Then it fell sick, and everyday I lived with its sad whining which slowly became barks of desperation. It killed us all inside.
One day, Mom and Dad brought it to the vet and we found out that Kiki was badly ill. That day, Kiki had his fur shaven off and we tried to hide it away in its cage with a huge towel over the cage so it wouldn't be able to see us and would quieten down and recover. My heart broke, though I had my own illness to cope with.
Slowly I began to try to distance myself from it, knowing that playing with it would only want it to be let out of its cage more often. The last memory I had of Kiki was letting it out of its cage so I could clean up the mess it made inside. Kiki came out and peed on the living room floor. Frustrated, all I could think of was to reprimand it so it would not make a habit out of peeing at home. It's what we're supposed to do, but Kiki, I really shouldn't have.
Today, just this morning, the thought of taking more photos with Kiki and starting a diary to remember Kiki's journey with us came to my mind. I had absolutely no idea of what was about to come. I'd thought that Kiki had been recovering somewhat. Then Dad and Mom decided to bring him to the vet before sending me to tuition. And I dumbly followed them. The vet told us then, that the best way out was to put my little angel to sleep.
Initially, I just looked at Dad blankly and nodded my agreement. It wasn't until a few moments later that the reality of things hit me. Images played through my mind like a slideshow. The first night Korkor brought Kiki home and it stared at me with its big eyes. The first time I touched its fur and pat it. The first time I fed it. Up until this morning when I saw it standing on the treadmill like it wanted a workout. The vet took the leash from Mom and stepped into the surgery room. Then came the nightmare.
I saw Kiki shivering. And I saw him trying to stay rooted to the ground to no avail. I saw him trying to face us and look us in the eye, although the vet was pulling him into the room from behind. The vet bent down to pick Kiki up from the floor, and even then I could tell that Kiki knew what was about to come and did not want to leave us.
I saw the vet put Kiki into the cage. And from the beginning, till the end, my baby never made a single noise. Just like the first day it came home. Just like the only time I ever scolded it. Just like a confused soul in a world of fear and uncertainty. Once again in this 18 years of life, my heart died for somebody.
I love you.
Lively, golden-furred you and bald, furless you.
posted by jallyre @ 11:31 PM
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