We used to watch the sunsets together. I’d prop myself up onto my mother’s car boot, and he’d climb up next to me, cuddle up close and in silence, lend his unconditional support to me.
He used to be able to give me looks. Looks that would silently put me in place, looks that would wrench the very heart out of me, looks that will flood me with shame. Always silent, he didn’t need words to convey these emotions, his looks were enough.
Silently defiant as always, he was never one who complained. Even as a little thing, the first night we brought him home, separated from the comfort of his familiar surroundings, he didn’t let out a peep. He grew up strong and silent, even when he came back with the most horrible battle wounds, gored, skin ripped apart , these nasty open wounds were all silently endured. He never squirmed or complained when we dressed his wounds, even in the unfamiliar hands of the vet, he merely plopped himself down, turned his body to make access to the wounded bits of him easier, with nary a wince. The trust he had is us was complete and unquestioning.
He had his flaws. Not born to be a show dog (perhaps, the fault for that was ours to share, we never really trained him to be one… I’m sure he would have done great, when the mood struck him). He ran out, terrorized the neighbours and many a postman.
He was special. The best watch dog anyone could ask for. He’s the only dog we had (and we’ve had dogs since I can recall), which could climb on top cars and keep watch from there. Trust me, it IS very intimidating to have him bark at you from ground level, it’s something else to have him bark at you from on top of the car, as if he could leap off the top of the car, fly above the gate and come lunging directly at your jugular. Scary indeed.
But he was a sweetheart. As standoffish and unaffectionate as he may seem, he really was a big devoted furball inside. He’d nuzzle up for a quick pet every chance he got. He’s walk regally up to me the moment I got home and stand next to me, looking quietly at me, until I reach down and give him a “Hey boy, I’m home” pet. Then he’d walk protectively behind me, until I let myself in the house.
His devotion knew no end. He’d plonk himself on his belly right at our doorstep, and silently watch us from his panda marked eyes for hours on end. Watching us watching tv was his favourite past time. And we knew he was watching us, cause you only need to nod in his direction, and that tail will start wagging…. Look at him and smile, and he’d smile back (I swear, he could smile…) wagging his tail happily. Get up to get a glass of water, and he’d get up too. By the time you reach the kitchen and reach for a glass, he’s already at the back door, watching out for you.
I’m gonna miss you Patchee ole’ boy. 14 years of being together and suddenly you’re gone. I’ll miss your slow and steady regal walk. I’ll miss hearing you take your running start, and the clickity clack of your paws on the windshield, I’ll miss your silent nuzzles and most of all, my dear dear friend, I’ll miss our sunsets together.
I still glance by your usual hang out spot near the custard apple tree every morning. I still listen out at night for the sounds of you scrambling up my car. And then I see the wilted flowers in the garden, marking your resting place, and it hits me. You’re gone. Rest in peace Patchee, I’ll miss you.
