my dog for almost nine years had just died a few moments ago.

eleven years old---i can still remember the time when i first saw her as this big chubby chunk of brown furry hair. she'd be the one to race into the rusty gates whenever she hears me arrive from school. she'd be wagging her tail like crazy and affectionately cajoling me to run after her.

after a few years, she gave birth to the two other dogs of our home. she was the cool mother of them. she played with them constantly and, disbelive as you might, took on the task of being a good role model dog. she never pooped in places you never wanted her to, she barked relentlessly at shady strangers and she never failed to delightfully swing her tail from left to right whenever she saw us.

she began acting weird the other day. she would just sulk in one corner and not eat anything at all. then, yesterday, her legs became limp and she was crippled. she couldn't even support her body up but her eyes were always looking towards us, catching our gazes if she could. i was still awake around past midnight when i heard her mournful moans. there was no question of whether she was suffering. it was dead dark at the place she was sentenced to sleep on. i thought that she might have felt fearful of the dark, afraid that she was on the verge of death and she was there all alone. i groped to turn on the light and saw her. she couldn't even look my way because her neck was stiff. all that she could do was desperately roll her eyes to my direction to see me. her cries tamed down a bit when she realized i was there but i just couldn't stay. tears welled up in my eyes.

at this very moment, my dad is burying her just beneath the chico tree. my dad loved her more than i did. i could imagine that every shovel of earth that he digs up for her grave pains him, every sweatdrop a homage to the wonderful creature named thalia.