It was 1998 and I was resting from my first end of semester rush at college. My mom called:
- A Husky puppy has followed me on the street. I think I'm bringing him home.
- But what about the cat? - I asked, worried about
MY pet.
- I can't help, she said. It followed me to my friend's houses' door and it waited for me 'till I left! I'm bringing it home.
Ok, it was her choice. More than one hour later, mom came home. There wasn't any puppy with her. It was as big as a German Shepard and it was brought by the third taxi driver. None of the previous agreed on putting such a big dog in their cars.
- Ok, it's just a Husky, mom. Call him Lobo, as any other Husky, I said poshly
He was tired and weak from having spent such a long time on the streets and he couldn't even stand. We called the vet and made an appointment for the following day. At night I went up to him and try to stroke his head. He growled at me. I was scared and a thick wall was built between us.
I kind of liked him but I was a little afraid. Then I realized my cat didn't like him so I started to side with her. In addition, I felt a little jelous because my mother loved him so deeply but she only liked my pet.
Time went on. My cat died of cancer - poor thing. So difficult to put her to sleep...
Anyway, the days passed by and I still couldn't feel comfortable with that dog. He was big, bold, roomy and lazy.
In 2000 my mother travelled for 2 months. My sister had left home to live by herself some months earlier, thus it was just me and him. For 2 long months. "I'll just feed him and give him fresh water. That's all.", I thought, forever bearing that first night growl in mind. And along came what I now name as "our second first night".
I had just left my mother at the airport and the house was mine. I had the brilliant idea of watching The Shinning. Alone. At home. In my
BIG house. I was scared to death! I went up to my bedroom, resigning myself to a sleepless night. To my surprise, that dog, that big bold roomy and lazy dog climbed the stairs behind me and tucked himself in right beside my bed. That night I could sleep. Soundly. Like an angel.
After that I was free to love that brown furry big fellow as I'd always wanted, but had been too pride to allow myself to.
Many years went on, with him bothering me so many times to walk him, embarassing me so often by pooping in front of my neighbours' doors, annoying me by barking at every single dog that would pass by my house at 2 in the morning. On weekends, at the crack of dawn he would open my bedroom door, wake me up to walk him. Extremelly angry, I would turn the other side and come back to sleep only to wake up later and find my books all peed.
I remember bathing him on hot summer days as an excuse to have an outdoors shower myself. More than once he would escape from the leash to seek asylum under my mom's legs - completely wet and covered with soap.
Last week Lobo was gone. Gone for good, after having escaped so many times to chase cute little lady dogs.
He is asleep forever, after so many nights sleeping by my side. Cancer has won again and has taken another pet away from me - this time the pet I would never forget. The big, bold, roomy and lazy lovely dog.
R.I.P., Lobo. May dog's heaven be full of books for you to pee on, comfy sofas for you to sleep on and cute little lady dog for you to chase. I'll deeply miss you.
Ilá -CPE 2
