Just bark Up there, dude.

I'm emotional and I apologize in advance if I pester you with this (probably) long entry. I just want to immortalize the events, no matter how bitter they may be, of the day when our good ol' pet Rambo decided to go ahead and survey Heaven if it's any good for us. 


It was around three in the morning and Rambo was yelping, as if in pain. It was  3 AM and I didn't give a second too late to rush by his side after I fumbled for my glasses (damned them for taking the time looking for them!). Something told me that the optimistic week I have given him yesterday had significantly shorten to an optimistic 24 hours. Or even less. Cleaning him up and trying to soothe him, I ended up doing a vigil by side when I lost to my bed against his constant whines. I can't let him go with all this suffering, I thought. For the next three hours, he was restless, trying to get up with his weakened legs, whining incessantly despite my therapeutic shushing and touch. I knew that optimistic 24 hours was working in dog-time. Around 6:30, something was evidently wrong. Rambo wretched as if trying to get something out of his system. The constant thump in his chest, which I was monitoring for the past few days, had suddenly weakened. This is it, I thought as a lump started to form in my throat. I called my Mom with a pleading voice, My, si Rambo!. My brother just got out of the shower when Rambo threw up. Since yesterday, I had been praying for a silent transition. Perhaps while he was asleep or while the rest of the family were. What unfolded was different but at least, it was comforting. Despite all the throwing up and the uncontrolled bladder, we - my Mom, brother and myself - were there up to his final moments. This I promised him while I uttered my silent prayers yesterday: That I would be by his side until his very last moments, no matter how painful it was. It was indeed painful, a good minute or two passed when I decided to man up and prepare him. I never thought I would be (pseudo)tough that short a period of time. It was painful to hear my Mom and my brother cry, even more sending an e-mail to my sister regarding the death of our pet. I must start the ball rolling, I thought. 


I disposed all the rags we used to keep him clean and I was left alone in the house. I thought manning up for the job was enough but as I started to wipe him clean, every swipe of the towel was a stab in my heart, every touch a slash. After cleaning him, I just stared and wept. Who ever said that men don't cry is wrong! Damn, we cry. And we cry with valor. Trying to make him appear slumbering was no easy task. You don't just close the eyelid with ease, sometimes you have to keep your fingers in place until the muscle relaxes. I knew the mortis stages would soon set in so I kept the pace. As I started to wrap him up in the banig he used to sleep on, I just broke down. It was just heartbreaking to see him go, leaving an empty void in our hearts no blood nor myocardium can replace. Good thing my father arrived and told me we should bury Rambo. The place was just perfect: at the backyard of my sister's lot.


Getting him inside the subdivision meant putting him in a sack so we can bring the body to the lot. With the help of my uncle and his friend, they dug the grave for Rambo. I really wanted to do the digging myself but I just stood there, like an undertaker or a grave-keeper as they dug the earth. I was silent all throughout the ordeal. It was painful to watch when he was lowered to the ground and the earth was placed upon him. Every shovelful of earth was full of goodbye. I tried to put up a strong facade during the burial and went home as if nothing happened. I rode a bike so that I can be alone and think over the things that transpired this very eventful morning. Looking at the streets, nothing pretty much seemed to be affected by the death of our beloved pet. Life went on in constant pace, leaving a trail of  bustling activity behind it. I guess I'm trying to move on.


Now, I ask not for your condolences for they merely strike the wound afresh but I ask for your prayers. He may just be a mere canine to your eyes but he, too, deserves to be respected and remembered. To all the memories, may they be good or bad, they shall be cherished. Rambo Jay, rest in peace. Just bark Up there, dude.