One Week

Dear Ashley,

Sory I haven't written here in a while! For some reason, my office computer's browser shuts down after I save a blog entry. Weird. Maybe I should write before other people start trickling into the office; I guess it might have to do with some firewall issues or what have you.

Anyway, it's been a week since your passing. When I think about it, I get sad once more. I know that eventually, the weeks will turn into months, and the months will turn into years. Right now, your presence hovers over us and I can feel it. But who knows how long it will last? What if, before we know it, you will be reduced to nothing but a fond memory that will get us to smile every once in a while? I don't want that to happen.

In my heart of hearts, you're just as alive as ever. I can see you lying down with one paw crossed over the other. I can hear your bark as you anticipate the arrival of either of our two cars. I can hear you slurping up your water dish with rhythm. I can see your smiling eyes. I can feel the smoothness and softness of your jet black fur.

Even with the possible arrival of a new puppy, you will not be forgotten, Ash. I refuse to let that happen. When we train the pup, you'll be there. When we take her for her first walk, you'll be there. When she mates and whelps for the first time, you'll be there.

And I know you'll be there for the rest of Shadow's life, too.

More importantly, you'll be there for me, too.

I hope Doggie Heaven is treating you real well, Ash! Eat as many Beggin' Strips as you can! The one with cheese, if the other dogs don't beat you to it! Oh, and now, you can have chocolate! Go and indulge! There may be doggie-style M&Ms just waiting for you!

Gotta go have breakfast first! Be back to write soon!

Love you, Shling-Shlong!

Pup-Pup-Puppy!

Dear Ash,

We're kind of looking into getting a puppy (or dog; I'll explain in a bit) now, and we currently have three options:

Option 1:

Buy a Golden Retriever pup from a CCFer friend.

Option 2:

Buy a Lab puppy from here. Preferrably the choco female since we've never had a choco.

Option 3:

Keep Sharkie, Mielz's dog. He's a full-grown adult, but a Beagle is a Beagle.

We're still in the process of deciding, but one thing's for sure; we're going to have a second dog one way or another. Shabby's alone, and our love for dogs just overflows.

Of course having a new one around won't replace you, Ash. Never. Like I said before, it's not in us to replace you and no other dog can hope to do that.

Hope it's okay with you, Ash!

Much love!

Puppyhood

Dear Ashley,

Good morning!

Last night, I read a book that Dad bought. It was all about Retrievers. Reading the history of Retrievers, to puppy care, to the differences between breeds, and the like brought back fond memories of January 4, 1996, when I first got you as a pup.

Days before that, Dad was given an offer by Tito Alex (you remember him, right? Well, all the Labs we've had, with the exception of Hugo, came from his kennel). He said we could have one puppy since his Lab, Nala, had just given birth. Dad proposed that we get a Lab and I couldn't have been more excited. We bought this thick magazine on dog breeds (which we still have somewhere at home) and I quickly devoured its contents. I must've memorized every single thing that had to do with dog care. I memorized almost all the dog breeds. I knew that the Retriever family consisted of the Chesapeake Bay Retriever, the Curly Coated Retriever, the Flat Coated Retriever, the Golden Retriever, the Labrador Retriever, and I also thought that the Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever was a part of the family, too. (Now, however, I don't think that it is. But let me research on that.)

And we got your accesories: your leash, your collar, your dish, your toys. We also stocked Chuck's room with lots of newspaper to housetrain you.

The big day arrived. Dad and I went to pick you up and what greeted us was a litter of black Labs. Eventually, our heartstrings were tugged by this female puppy with a slightly crooked left front leg. That was you, Ash! I picked you up, took you inside our Lite Ace, and sat you on my lap. At first, you stayed still, content to enjoy the ride. Seconds later, you started wriggling and worming your way out. What a frisky puppy!

We got home and immediately showed you to your new home. You sniffed around and shortly after, you peed on the floor. I tapped you on the nose and placed newspaper over the wet spot. When you had to pee again after a few minutes, you peed on the newspaper. That's when we knew we had a brilliant dog. You never made a "mistake" again.

Chuck and Cooks expected that we would get a yellow Lab, but you enamored us with your puppy charms so we took to you right away. We named you Ashley because you were our first black dog.

It was you who started our love for the breed, Ash. When you had your first litter, we kept your only yellow male, Max. Then we had Rafter, then Buster (both from Tito Alex), then your second litter. From that litter, we kept Daisy, your only female, and a yellow one, at that! It didn't work out well with Daisy, so Tito Alex had us pick another puppy. And that was Shadow.

Eventually, Shabby had his own litters (remember Hugo, his son whom we kept for about a year?) but you were the predecessor of our Lab obsession. Remember we had a family email address called lablovers@netasia.net? You started all this!

We've had a good ten years of experience with the breed, I must say.

Anyway, Ash, I gotta go work now. It's been fun reminiscing the days of your puppyhood!

I love you!

Outlets

Dear Ashley,

Yesterday, we went to the toy store and bought a really huge black dog stuffed toy. Of course we named it after you. So now you're immortalized! Each of us has taken turns hugging it, bringing it around, and last night, I slept with it. Had a very good sleep, in fact.

And then today, in order to not feel sad, I've decided to think of really nice memories of you; memories that don't concern your death, memories that celebrate your life. So now, I feel less sad and, I guess, more "privileged" or blessed to have had you in my life.

I still miss you, Ash. I still feel that there's a big part of my life that will be forever incomplete. For the past 10 years of my existence, you were there; in my ups and in my downs. I always relied on your constant presence for support, I'm sure you knew that.

But I choose to smile more now. I choose to laugh. Because if I don't, I'll end up spiraling downward faster than you can say, "Ashley". I need to move on because I'm going to hole up and isolate myself from the world. I need to move on because I have work to do, among other things.

Expect me to write, still. That won't change. Expect me to become wistful when I remember you're no longer with me.

Yet expect my letters to you to take on a positive tone. I want to remember you the way you've always been — loving, loyal, full of life.

By the way, I just bought a new lens today, Ash! If you were still around, I'd have definitely made you and Shab my first subjects using this lens. It would have been really nice to try it out on you guys.

When I go home tonight, I'll hug the immortalized you. And play with Shabby for a bit.

Love you, Ashbee!

On Shabby

Dear Ashley,

Your canine best friend has been out of sorts the past two days. Early this morning, in fact (since Mom, he, and I couldn't sleep), I had to bring him to the Family Room 'coz he was so lonely. He entered very quietly, without the Shadow spunk you'd always known. He lay down at the foot of the couch next to me, and only started to fall asleep when my hand rested on his head.

He's so lonely, Ash. And we can't always play with him. Neither can we leave him indoors for long periods of time since: 1) I think he still has ticks; and, 2) with Lol around, who knows what mishap he might get himself into? So right now, he roams the garage, the garden, the back areas of our rooms by himself. No sidekick to go trotting with him.

I really hope he snaps out of this funk real soon. It makes me feel worse knowing he's not okay. 'Til he gets some sort of distraction, like the arrival of a new pup, perhaps.

A while ago, Dad fed him with Pedigree treats. He jumped up and down to catch the treats, but it wasn't the same. There was one less mouth to feed. I miss the competition you and Shab would have whenever food entered the picture. I think Shab misses it, too. Now, there's no challenge for him when it comes to food, attention, walks, etc.

I guess I decided to update you on his condition for you to know you are dearly missed. By all of us.

Be writing again soon. Better read or something to distract myself for now.

Love you, Bashie Boo-Boo!

One Rainy Afternoon

Dear Ashley,

I've gotten so used to calling out your name and knowing that, in a matter of seconds, the jingling of your choker chain would follow and you'd appear, smiling your big Labrador grin and your tail wagging 18371973018302 miles an hour.

Now it's so weird. I feel so empty. Uttering your name just saddens me in ways I can't describe.

Yet I don't want to stop saying your name. I don't want to stop what I've been doing for the past nine years.

You've been such an important part of my growing up years. When I obsessed over my first celebrity crush and would sing his famous movie's theme song to you (out of tune, I might add), you'd listen willingly. Even if I know I probably hurt your eardrums back then. When we moved from house to house, you helped ease the stress of packing and unpacking furniture, appliances, etc., with your larger-than-life smile. When I graduated from high school, I wished you could've been a part of my celebration; it was okay with you though, since I gave you leftovers of my graduation dinner. When I went off to college and exams drove me insane, you'd patiently listen to me as I rambled aloud the works of Marcel, Merleau-Ponty, George Gerbner, and the like, and you tried your best to understand. When I started going to work and things got stressful, you never complained even if the times we spent together became less and less.

Whenever you and I were together, it's as if time ceased to exist. It's as if I were still 14 years old and you reverted to puppyhood, brimming with zest for life. The last few times I'd take you for walks, you'd still tug at your end of the leash, leaving me to run after you while gasping for breath, and when I'd feed you with bread, you'd jump up and down on your hind legs; nevermind the fact that you were already 9 years old — a senior by most standards.

I don't know what went wrong, Ash. I don't know why you were very much alive and kicking one second and the next, I'm bawling my eyes out after hearing you were gone.

I have to admit, I resented you, Ash. For the first time in these 9 years I've known you, you let me down. You left me alone. You weren't there at the time when I needed you most.

Yet, after talking to family, I guess it's true that, if I had seen you waste away and suffer, I would've felt worse. If I saw you take your last breath, I would've gone insane. The pain I'm feeling right now cannot compare to the pain I would've felt if you suffered.

But you didn't. You moved on from this life to the next with the same gentleness and grace you always exuded. You never thought of yourself, Ash. Many times in the past, you never let on when you were feeling pain. You always let Shadow and our other dogs steal your thunder; you were simply content receiving an occasional pat or one-on-one romp.

And yesterday, once again, you didn't think of yourself. If you experienced any ounce of pain, none of us knew. None of us had any clue. I don't think you wanted us to know.

I really miss you in ways I never imagined. I knew the end of your road would come someday; I just wasn't prepared for yesterday. At all. What once started out as an ordinary day turned out to be one I would never forget.

You know what, Ashie-Boo? It's been raining nonstop since yesterday. Pretty much matches my mood, huh? I've been crying and mourning on and off since I heard about your passing. And I guess God and the angels are commiserating with me.

On the way to the Bingo game this afternoon, I shouted, "Hi, Ash!" in the direction of where you were buried. I was hoping you heard me. And on the way back, I greeted you once more.

Oh, I'm rambling, as I always do. I can go on and on and on about how much I miss you and how I really wish this were a nightmare I have yet to wake up from. A part of me still hopes that you're hiding somewhere and if I whistled loud enough, you'd come running. Mom, however, says that she pretends you're just taking a really long nap. That thought makes me chuckle inside when I remember how loud you used to snore and snort in your sleep.

So, Ash, wherever you are, I hope you're okay. I hope you're watching over us in Doggie Heaven along with Spike. Say hi to him for me, okay? Chuck misses him a whole lot.

And if we ever decide to get another puppy, don't take it personally, okay? I know you didn't like it everytime we introduced a new canine member to our "pack"; you always wanted to make it clear that you were the boss.

But it's not because we want to replace you; we can never do that and no dog can ever hope to achieve that. We're just hoping that, with a new pup, we'll get distracted, which, in turn, will divert our pain into something productive. It's just that it really hurts to remember you because you were a really special member of the family and we'll probably wallow in depression forever unless we do something about it.

Shadow misses you immensely. I hope you can help him. He's really lonely. So perhaps a new pup would give him the company that he so badly needs right now.

I'll be writing to you a lot, okay? I figure that, since I can't ramble to you aloud anymore, I can at least voice out my thoughts to you through the written word.

Gotta go, first, Shling. I love you.

The Aftermath

Dear Ashley,

It's been one day since I heard of your passing. The pain's still there, everpresent. I feel it everytime I see the corner where you used to lie down on, or your collar that now dangles from the gate, or your empty food dish.

I've been crying buckets since yesterday. It really hurts. I miss you so much.

I miss your "smile" (they say dogs don't smile, but you certainly did) and I miss your soulful eyes. I miss the way you used to caress my face with your own, and I miss the way you'd raise your paw to shake mine whenever I'd be sad. I miss the way your hips would waggle whenever you walked because of your cute waistline. I miss the way you'd bark to signal our arrival even before we got around to honking our car horn. I miss the way you'd lap up your water because there was something rhythmical about it. I miss the way you used to run after cats at the mention of the word "cat". I miss the way your eyes would light up everytime I'd toss bread your way and I miss the way you would jump up to catch the pieces of bread. I miss the way you'd lick me all over after everytime I said, "Ashie! Kissey!"

I really miss you, Ash.

But I'll continue this later, okay? I gotta go to the park and play Bingo for some neighborhood event. It'll be hard to see the park, knowing you loved romping around there.

Love you, Ash.