20 February 2013

Reminiscing . . .

This is an old photo of my dogs Sumo (left) and Sweepy (right).
They were the father and son tandem
leftover from my huge mongrel family in the early 2000.

All my dogs are adorable like most dogs
but mine are special because from this batch
I learned a more exciting communication
and learned to appreciate animals more . . .

The photo above was how they posed
when I hold my camera and tell them it is for their blogs.
(Yes, my dog blogs way before I did)

And this was how they looked
when I take candid shots 
and they were not posing:
They exchanged bantering
which always made my off days
colorful and relaxing.

I think some of you know what this post is all about.
Yes, it is about this big guy.
My alpha dog Sumo who passed away last year.

I always told myself that on the first death anniversary
of my black Alpha dog Sumo 
I will look back and tell our tale. . .

It was a wonderful tale of how a dog can teach us
beyond caring, beyond trust, beyond doggy tales
and of how two creatures reached a moment
where our two worlds collide
on a hot afternoon . . .

It was difficult to narrate it 
without people thinking I've gone insane.
I probably am and I don't care ;-)

. . . but what happened was 
from Sumo I learned to listen to plants 'talk'
(some plants like people are shy but some are overly talkative!)
and from there my senses awakened to a magical world
where nature and animals share our quirky world.
A lot of animal people know this too well.

But on 'normal days'
my lovable Sumo looked like this:
. . . like he will eat you alive
and people practically cringed at the sight of him!

I know some people like that too.
They look stern and cold and unfriendly
but in truth, they are gentle and caring
and like Sumo can teach us things
if only we will allow them into our world.

I miss Sumo a lot.
I miss our stories.
I miss how he followed me protectively . . .
. . . well, he loved legs . . .
and on his senior years,
(he was 12 years old when he died)
he probably loved when I massaged his bulky self
and reassured his blurry world
that I will always keep an eye on him.
I kept that promise until his death.

And the reason I tried to ignore the nagging voice
that remind me to write on his death anniversary
was because no matter how much I shake it
I always sense him around.
Those subtle warnings when there are bees (I might get stung),
or something falling (I was jerked inches away
when a rock fell from nowhere!)
or when there is an intruder
(I was awakened at dawn several times
to find possible robbers in the neighborhood
and I had to call the village security)
while his son and my superdog Sweepy
was snoring like mad and not on guard.

I also tried to beat around the bush
because I tried to avoid the tears 
that is now falling like crazy just writing about this.
Oh look how foolish I am crying in front of the laptop, Sumo!

But I am not the only one who missed Sumo.
This was how Sweepy, Sumo's son, looked
months after Sumo passed away
and Sweepy was left alone 
to endure a quirky keeper!

But Sweepy's lonely days are over.
We got Babur as a gift in August last year.
Maybe Babur was a gift from Sumo 
who probably thought that his son Sweepy 
need a companion when I am always away. 

I miss Sumo
even when I still sense his presence.
Sidelight: several feng shui masters (I got read every year!)
would somehow sense the presence of "something dark"
but "harmless" and "protective of me"
in my house Heaven.

They are not in illusion.
Something dark was and is a part of my mad life.
And the tears I shed
are tears of joy and happy reminiscing
because that was Sumo
then and now . . .

Lovingly Remembered
15 January 2000 - 4 February 2012


DeniseinVA said...

A beautiful post my friend! I am happy that Babur has a loving home with you and Sweepy, and what wonderful stories you can tell him of Sumo and his sweet heart.

Jidhu Jose said...


Anonymous said...

lui, you made me cry buckets again. i equally miss the alpha dog, his wit and everything. i feel your solitude everytime you'll think abt "lui and sumo's stories", it's heartrending...