Wow.
It just hit me that.
I don't know what the fuck I've been doing with my life the past few weeks.

Clicking on the refresh button while on the Facebook page can be amazingly therapeutic.
Until a red icon pops up at the bottom right of the screen that is.
Then the heart skips a tiny bit faster.
The breath held just a tad bit longer.
And the world momentarily- just for that short fragment of a second- seemed to exist for you.
The dullness of your batting lids is washed away.
Your mind zaps awake as if cold lemon had been squeezed directly onto your brain to send those neuronal impulses on its way.
Could it be real?
So you move your cursor ever so eagerly over the notification and click it.
Only to find some stupid quiz awaiting your precious attention.
You do not have time to waste on such idle rubbish, you have better things to do, like your world-altering law assignment.
So you ignore the notification, and continue the therapeutic motion of left-clicking the refresh button.

*click*



*click*



*click*

I have been having disturbingly vivid dreams the past few days.
Last night's was the last straw, and I am contemplating tackling the dream fairies on my own.

You see, I saw a cat got knocked over by a motorcyclist who sped away.
Next thing I knew, I was holding the cat and getting it to the vet's.
For some reason, the vet took me to some place, he could not tend to the cat then.
We got into the lift, but the cat was not in my hands anymore.
That did not seem like a problem to me, for some reason.

Now here's a thing about the vet.
I remember him being Chinese, fat, slightly shorter than me. With glasses.
That fucker was not pretty at all.
And the worst part was, there we were in the lift, right?
He then took a few steps closer to me, and gave me a sly smile.
And next thing I knew, he put his pudgy paw on my butt and attempted a squeeze.
And he then asked if I wanted some "happy time".
The lift doors opened and I ran out, to find myself in an abondoned construction site, somewhere in the middle of a forest of some sort.

For a fat person, that horny vet sure can run.
I decided to stop running away and face him.
He got nearer and nearer.
As he approached, I smashed my elbow into his face.
He fell over.
I started kicking him in his gut and nuts.
He somehow got to his feet, and I started punching his face as hard as I can.
Next thing I knew, he was on the floor, and I had a knife in my hand.
I went on to cut off an ear, and smashed the butt of the knife into one of his eyeballs.
The poor fucker was still trying to grab my butt.
I stomped and stomped on his leg until it was but pulp.
And then I went on a craze punching his face in.

When I finally grew conscious of the surroundings, I was by some railway tracks, near the city now.
I had a sudden urge to hunt down a priest, whom I somehow knew was a paedophile.

I awoke shortly, needing to take a piss.

Shit. That was horrible.
Horrible!!

I swear tonite, I am going to fart so bad till the messed up dream fairies will think twice about fucking my dreams up again.

Come on!! I have not seen Liv Tyler in ages!!!

Cold autumn morning.
The duvet just barely there.
The alarm buzzed, I turned to switch it off.
Message from mum: "Uncle Ray died this am."

So simple, so sterile.
Reminds me of hospital corridors.
Where the doctors will shake their heads.
Stare gravely into your eyes.
And say: We did all we can.
Which translates into "he's fucking in hell now".
And off they go to bang nurses in the closet.

Death's sweet, sweet scent.
It hangs at every turn of our heads.
In our limbs, in our eyes, on our tongue.
Decay's beautiful legacy.
So why fear the gorgeous?
Because it kills.

A sparrow came to me the other day.
She kissed me on my cheek.
Landed on my shoulder.
And whispered.
"You're dying.
That's what makes you so beautiful."

We are dying.
Every minute that we are not living.
It will work out into an even equilibrium one day.
Whence the heart no longer knows how to beat.
The lungs know not how to speak.
And then the brain.
It'll die of loneliness for the departure of its beating love.

Where will we go when we're dead?
Why bother really?
When we don't even know why we're living.
So breathe.
So Love.

Come with me.
I see the sparrow.
She's just there, waiting for me.
In the far horizon where the Sun lives.

You cannot imagine the relief I had felt when I had finally parked my car in front of No. 6. He has been in my mind the entire day. I could not concentrate proof-reading the submission, I did not have the appetite for lunch. All I wanted to do was to return to him.

 

I dumped my laptop bag onto the chair and got changed. I showered her first, as usual, then finally him. They did not get their weekend bath, you see. When he circled her as I shampooed her, I could already smell him. That stench that I have been fearing since 3 weeks ago. That stench that came back to haunt the both of us while I was away for the four days.

 

I could see that he was trying his best not to bite me as I attempted to finally clean the ear. He was nipping at my hands, pulling at the towel. He was agitated, he could not stay still. He seemed like he just wanted to sink his big teeth into something.

 

I dried him off and tied him while we wait for my mum to come pick us. In a sudden fit, he bit the ropes that held him captive and pulled so hard that two of his teeth fell out. They plunked onto the floor just like that, two massive canines staring jaggedly at me. Blaming me for their premature death.

 

My mum could sense that the both of us were angry with her for being late. I was going bonkers looking at the clock and wishing that she would arrive faster. My baby was in pain. My baby is going crazy. Mummy, hurry up. My baby wants me to stop this thing that is without my powers.

 

We got to the vets finally. He tut-tutted. At me, most probably. I’m such a horrible owner. His right ear was infected again. I have been taking utmost care of that ear. When I wake up each morning after that last medical procedure some 3 weeks back, I brushed my teeth and went downstairs to apply the creams and drops into his ears, and wrestled him down to spray the repellent that he hates so much. I repeated the ritual when I return from work. Shoving the pill down his throat twice a day proved much easier, surprisingly.

 

But here he was. In a worse state than before. Just because I had left him for four days, for four rainy days. The maggots in his ear this time round is apparently larger. They irritated him so much that he scratched his ear till it bled, continuously. Coupled with the bacteria, they were eating his ear slowly. I am now just praying that they have not gotten to his ear-drums.

 

As the doctor prodded his ear, he was whining like a sick puppy, shoving his head between my armpits like he always does when afraid. He wants his eyes closed, he wants that familiar feel or something warm around his muzzle. So he whined as I whispered empty promises to him that this ordeal would be the last, wriggling as he was.

 

It was gut-wrenching to see my beautiful baby crippled in such a manner. His eyes were forlorn, allowing only glimpses of a glimmer. I left him there only hours ago, at the vet’s. The procedure to remove the maggots is scheduled for tomorrow, and he will be there for a couple more days.

 

I returned home to see his blood all over the house. His usual sleeping spot. The floor of the porch. The walls by the shoe rack. The pots. My slippers. The rug. God.

 

You know, dogs really are not just mere play things. You cannot buy them and keep them just because they look cute, and then neglect them and leave them to die when they have outgrown your fancy. Dogs are not just mere animals. They are friends. They are partners. They are companions. That bond  a master shares with a dog is something so very precious and unbreakable.

 

If you know of anybody thinking of buying a dog like a German Shepherd, a Rockweiller, a Dane or other similar big dogs, please tell them to think thoroughly. they are some of the most amazing living creatures in the world. They are intelligent, they are loyal. But they take a great load of TLC and patience.

 

I did not consider my leaving to be a big problem when we bought my baby. I mean, how hard can a dog be, right? When I had left for Manchester, he longer got his regular walks, he no longer got the proper scrubs and rubs he needs for his skin, he no longer got his regular brushing, he no longer got his teeth brushed. He no longer got the regular and proper cleaning those massive ears need. Nobody plays tug of war with him anymore. When I returned, his skin was dry and flaky: fungal. His ears were not pink. He was abound with energy, energy he could only release onto the tiny Terrier at home.

 

I guess in retrospect, the family cannot be blamed for this. It was probably not them that decided on my baby. I have been thinking that this home is probably no longer adequate for him. I wish I could bring him with me. I wish I could have him cuddled by me during those cold winter nights.

 

Dogs are not simple creatures. They are not toys. They are like babies. To be loved, to be cared for. To be understood, to be given friendship.

 

Now I just hope that that silly thing would come back to me with that big goofy ears of his all pricked up.