Unboxed Writers App for Phone and Tablet

Here are more ways to stay at forefront of Unboxed Writers and stay informed and inspired! Download our app for Android Phones and Tablets. Click on the image to Download Now!


Justice

Like Us on Facebook

Follow Us on Twitter

 

Archives

Cattitude: Cause We Support

Cattitude!

The Cattitude Trust is a Public Charitable Trust started to reach out to cats in distress, particularly in Chennai (India).

To know more about Cattitude, 'Like' them on Facebook.

Copyright

Creative Commons License
All content displayed here by Unboxed Writers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://unboxedwriters.com.

Excerpt, Don't Copy: You may not publish an entire post. You may republish an excerpt of not increasing 250 words.

Give Credit: You may not use any material from our site without giving due credit to the individual author and Unboxed Writers. You must hyperlink directly to the post.

Author: Author of the post retains all copyright, and reserves all rights not explicitly granted here.

A Woof Is My Word For Love

dogCalvin breathes gently. Despite the pain and exhaustion, despite the air of resignation that hangs around him, he seems peaceful. The morning sun is brutal, but Calvin continues to lie in the blinding brightness that escapes the curtains. Calvin. Our sunshine.

Father, Mother, and I have locked our gazes on the boy. If our thoughts could be heard, Calvin would hear us saying, “Our last day with you. Last day.” The words marshal years and years of memories. Memories that make us smile. Memories that make us feel thankful. Memories that make us cry.

And we face the inevitable question — Will the memories perish along with Calvin?

I lie beside him, with my arms around his weak body. He still tries to wag his tail. Dogs. I think of Father, who reluctantly left to work, for he’s weighed down with the knowledge that he will not see Calvin alive again. I think of Mother, who bottles up her emotions and poses questions like, “Will it be painful for him? Is that the only way?” I think of Sister, who is thousands of miles away from the boy, and who would trade all her wishes to spend one last minute with him.

For all of them, I whisper into his ears — We love you, Calvin — as my torrential tears wash his face.

Moments later, I measure his body to let a friend dig Calvin’s grave. As I measure, Calvin takes a deep breath. I run the tape on him when he is alive. Life shows how ruthless it can become. While the family suffers from the inability to face the separation, while Calvin still lies in my mother’s lap, I call the vet and inform that we are ready. A lie.

Calvin rests his head on my thigh during our last ride to the vet and his cataract-filled eyes become bigger, as the car moves faster. He grows curious, tries to look out the window and inhales deeply, as though he is taking along all the goodness in the world.

One year later…

Today, Mother peels a banana for Boo. “Calvin loved bananas, Boo. You knew that, didn’t you?” I hear Mother talk to Boo and remember all that Mother says about the boy who left us a year ago.

Calvin liked apples. Calvin loved strangers. Calvin ate birds’ droppings. Calvin was scared of firecrackers. Calvin was this. Calvin was that. Calvin was everything.

Boo runs her tongue around her lips and sprawls in the sunniest spot at home. As I wonder how the teeny-weeny, diffident dog whom we rescued a few years ago has become a spoilt girl, the answer to the ‘inevitable question’ appears.

Will the memories perish along with Calvin?

In that unassuming moment, it dawns on me that Calvin is ensconced in the memories. When he left this transient realm, Calvin became stronger and healthier in that safest of territories. Every tiny, beautiful memory of ours is a fort that protects him. Every time we talk about him, we give that fort a fresh coat of paint. Every time we utter his name, the fort’s doors open and the black boy comes running out, with his long tongue out. He wears an effervescent smile as he jumps on us, and he covers our faces with his sticky saliva.

Nothing can snatch Calvin from us. He is just here. He will always be here.

Memories don’t hurt anymore, for their purpose is different now. They keep him alive and fan the undying love we have for our first fur child.

And now, we love him with no fear; he cannot be lost again.

Deepika Ramesh is a reader, blogger, animal-lover, aspiring cyclist, and a sucker for tiny, warm moments. She blogs at http://worncorners.com/

Similar posts
  • Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. No matter how many times I say it, it won’t be anywhere near enough. Strangers on the street, boyfriends, acquaintances at parties, “friendly” uncles, neighbours- the reality that our bodies belong to everyone but ourselves is one that women realize rather early into their lives. The first time I [...]
  • Till We Meet Again… “Dear Calvin we miss u…” I woke up to those words today. Father’s status message on Whatsapp. Five words. They shook my heart and triggered a tsunami. A tsunami of memories. We place Calvin on the cold table. He pants, still gathers some strength to look around. He knows that place and we know he [...]
  • Hope Is The Thing With feathers.. I fear that I might sound ridiculous; I am still throwing caution to the wind and have chosen to relate a profound moment I shared with the Universe. All my life, I was agnostic. Cynical. Bitter. I didn’t believe in looking for signs. I must admit that the cynicism stemmed from my inability to read [...]
  • 300 Things I Hope For…for Us I turned 30 on Friday, and bought myself quite a few amazing books. But I want to tell you about this heartwarming book for now. 300 Things I Hope by Iain S. Thomas In the adorable book, the author hopes for 300 beautiful, moving, simple things for us. Just that. He simply hopes. Each page carries [...]
  • The Ways I Remember Madras… 22-August is celebrated as Madras Day. A tribute to the city I love.. The black cow is heavily pregnant. She walks into the lane where we live. Our 400 square feet box is the first house. With a large writing pad on my lap, I am sitting at the threshold. My pen is in mouth, ‘complex’ maths in [...]

No Comments Yet

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Our Authors

Be the first to read the latest on Unboxed Writers!

Subscribe for FREE and get the latest in your Inbox! You can unsubscribe at any time.
Name
Email *

Admins

Editor & Founder:
Reema Moudgil
Design Director & Founder:
Vani Bahl
Media Consultant:
Poonam Goel

Mission Statement

Who are we? We are writers. And here, in this space, we put pride and passion back into writing. We give ourselves and each other creative freedom and respect.

* We create an environment where content generation does not entail degeneration of inspiration and spirit.
* We create content that we believe in and identify with.
* We recognise that to create is always of more value than to berate.
*We critique without malice and arrogance.

This site is about us writers, what we stand for but more importantly, about creating something valuable, inclusive, thought-provoking. In this space, we do not just stand for ourselves but for all those who listen to a compelling inner voice that tells them, "Create!"

Unboxed Writers Share

Join the other awesome people who get the new posts right away by email!
Be the first to read the latest on Unboxed Writers.
Enter your email and stay on top of things!

Subscribe!