Your Pet Loss Stories


by Sushma

My fur ball

My fur ball

We miss your childhood, the small ball of pure white fur. My hands now crave to stoke your soft fur. I remember the moment you arrived in a small jute basket, sleeping, unaware of the permanent love you etched in our hearts. I named you in an instant. I played with you as if you were a teddy bear. You must hate me for all those times when I cuddled you hard.

You bit all the carpets away and jumped around in every room. I scared you with the red bucket, irritated you by pretending to pull out your ticks or moving around the furniture. You grew up too fast. And became one lovely lady. But with all our pampering you were still the child of the house. I am sure 7 or 17 years, you would have always stayed the baby that you were.

Every time I visited, I always had to pick up something for you. All of us thought of you when in market which is why the house was filled with your goodies. You were part of every aspect of Mom and Dad's routine.

Your going moments still hurt a lot. I don't know why god made us experience them. The only reason I try to convince myself that of your going is that it was time you had to be reborn as a little brat destined to be pampered and spolit by someone else. You must be reborn somewhere as a beautiful little girl with beautiful black eyes, I wish.

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