There is a little white mark on the back of my right hand. You’ll never even see it till you know it’s there. Today I look at it and I remember that face. That face, who was always growling when he saw me. Always angry because I was responsible for putting him behind bars…or two sticks across the living room door in this case.
He mistrusted me with the most unadulterated, most pure mistrust that only a dog is capable of and yet there was something unmistakeably endearing about him. Every doorbell was greeted with sharp loud barks and every attempt at forging peace disregarded with a statutory growl.
When I write this obituary for Foxy aka Gabbu, I’m filled with a lot of memories but most of those aren’t mine to share. All I know is that here was a dog who loved his family so much; he could do anything to protect them. Here was a dog so beautiful that it broke my heart every time, knowing he would never like me.
But that little puppy who once tumbling into this world unannounced and unwanted has left in his wake so much for everyone to miss. He left behind a place that no one can ever fill and took with him a little piece of our hearts.
And now, every time, I see that little white mark on the back of my right hand, I’ll remember that growling face and those big brown eyes and hope that he has found his peace.
For the chaser-of-sparrows, fearer-of-firecrackers and the barker-at-urchins, I really did like you…
