Last Play
Yesterday at around 3pm, I was frantically studying for a below knee amputation procedure which was scheduled at 6pm.
It was my first time after all, and actually, during the procedure, it was me and two of my other batchmates who did the procedure. Of course it was under the supervision of our consultant. The procedure was fun to do, but I feel like I need to read up on it again. ( ・∇・)
Anyway, that's besides the point. While I was studying for it, I received a text message from my mom. I already had a feeling what the message would be before I even opened it.
Enzo died.
I knew it was about time. On Sunday, I was able to go home and spent a little time with him; petting his head like I used to, playing with him even though he was already very weak. I would go in different areas of our garden, squat down, open my arms to him and just say "Come Enzo!" and he would weakly come to me and I'd pet him. I did it until he became tired and decided to lie down under one of the tables. I decided to let him rest.
The next morning, I wasn't able to see him again. When I asked for him, they said he was still sleeping. So I decided not to bother him. I believed that my time for him the day before was adequate enough. He was weak. He couldn't run. He couldn't walk properly. But he would still come to me. And so, yesterday when I read that text message saying Enzo had died, I didn't know what to feel. My sadness became a delayed reaction. It took a while for it to really sink in. I loved Enzo. He was the dog I got when I really wanted one. I trained him to sit, come, lie down... He was my anti-stress when I was in high school. When I was sad, I'd go to him and talk to him. I don't know if he understood anything I said what with the goofy looking face he'd give me each time. He was a very gentle beagle and fun to play with.
Enzo, goodbye, and thanks for the time we had. Thanks for being there at home when I was still in my hellish high school life. It was a good long 15 years.