Julie

I knew if I ever wrote sometime, I would eventually write about Julie.

This is a tribute to a very dear friend.

I was 11 years old when she came into my life. A little brown bundle of pure joy was this pretty cocker spaniel with twinkling eyes. I remember the day she walked into our home pretty well, she dashed inside the living room just as soon as my mother released her, instantly making my 6 year old sister scramble up the nearest window. My sister spent the better part of the day hanging on to that window and refusing to move till this 2-month-old monster was removed from the room. Julie was up to the challenge, taunting the swinging sister to put her feet down. Eventually she did get down and they got to know each other just fine.

Julie grew fast and our friendship grew faster. We developed a unique bond that only a dog and a 11 year old could. In no time she was the fifth member of the family, having firmly carved a place for her in our midst. Julie was very different from the rest of the dogs we knew. She fiercely guarded her house, yet she had the heart to herd and safeguard a little chick which my adventurous Mom decided she must have in her backyard, even carefully carrying that little chick in her mouth to safety every time there was a predator crow in sight. Much later, she also took in a little stray kitten and gave it a place to stay when it found its way into our home. She was a strange little dog but one couldn't dispute that she had a heart of gold.

I'm told that she could hear my bicycle bell as soon as I enter the street on my way back from school and she would be ready at the gate with her tail wagging and her eyes twinkling. This was immediately followed by our crazy routine, which involved a lot of tail wagging, arm chewing, wild barking and a spot of wrestling. I think she looked forward to it everyday as much as I did, if not more.

She eventually found a mate (a dashing cavalier of a dog who would jump over our large compound wall to meet his lady love) and had a couple of pups and grew them to be as well mannered and gentle as she. She even let the little kitten she rescued play with them like it was another pup of hers.

As she got older and greyer everyone took special care to ensure that her needs were taken care of. Yet, Julie never broke her routine of welcoming me at the gate every time I got back home on the weekends from college. We had seen each other through our easy days as well as the hard ones and had settled into a more mature friendship always comforted by each other’s presence.

Finally, one day when I returned from out of town and walked into my home, I could sense something was wrong since no one was around. I walk over to the backyard; my dad was standing there with a crestfallen look, immediately I knew what that look meant. I walked to this little shed hesitantly and saw her lying in my Mom's lap as my sister sobbed quietly in a corner. My Mom told her softly that I've come and gently transferred her frail head into my lap. I held her, stroked her head softly and called her name.

After a while, her tail wagged wanly and in a few seconds I felt her heave a huge sigh, which was her dying breath. As it turned out, the Vet had told my parents that she would die in an hour or so they day before I got home. She had double pneumonia and had lost her vision too. My heartbroken Mom sat with her every minute, talking to her, assuring her that I would come home soon. She had held on for 24 long and painful hours. Fighting for consciousness, even gaining the strength to walk for a few seconds one time. Waiting resolutely.

To this day, I can never express in words how I feel about her final act of friendship. She had set her mind to welcome me home one last time. And she did just that.