May 24th, 2016.

It's been two months. My dog died of accidentally eating rat poison. His name was Vodka. He was 7 years old, and had just celebrated his birthday about three weeks before.

When I heard the news as I left my campus, I was astonished. It was like an ordinary bad news for me at first, I didn't really spend a lot of time with him everyday. But hearing my mom cry made it worse. I started to worry about what happened to him. As soon as I entered my house, I saw my mom carrying his body. Then I grabbed and hugged him. All of a sudden it bursted. I cried to my bones. He was not breathing, nor moving. I never expected the pain to be that deep. I will never see Vodka again, who has been living with our family in the past 7 years.

He's been watching over our family. He's been inside the life we're in. He was there when my sister had her sweet 17th birthday, entered university, graduated. When I entered university. He took good care of our secrets. All of my naughtiness, as well as my sister's. My family dramas. When we fight, when we pray (he would bark at us), when we had good time. The points where everything was okay, the points where everything was hell. He were there as a living member. He was a part of us.

I never really noticed him inside the house. He was almost like an interior for me. All I heard everyday was the bell ringing on his necklace whenever he walked, the barks whenever I ate (which I always ignore, or kick him away if the moment wasn't right), the whole house laughing and gossiping about him. He was always there, seeking attention and care. Just a little rub on his back would make his eye linger and sleep easier. Hugging him with his hands around my neck was comfort.

I took him for granted. I thought he would always be there. But no, he's a living creature. He would die at some point of my life. I didn't value and give a nice amount my time for him and yet his death was painful enough to make me (and other members of my family) shed tear once in a while for about 2 weeks.

In the end, his death made me contemplate. What if it was my closest family members' death? How painful would it be? We lived together longer, talked with each other, shared mutual interaction. I can't imagine how painful it would be.

Rest well, Vodka. I miss you so so much.