Drama is life · Me, me, me



You left a bittersweet taste on my tongue, like the very thing you’re named after.

Sorry I can’t write well today. It still hurts a lot. This little baby changed something in me in less than 24 hours. She stayed with me for only four days, but within those four days I have come to love her like I never loved any other pet before.

The first night she came to our house, I thought she was going to get bullied by this big pup, Taco. Mocha was so small (damn, I hate referring to her in the past tense) and looked so fragile. She wasn’t as energetic as Taco, although I’m speculating that his breed is Jack Russel Terrier, which explains a lot about his behavior.

Being the “knowledgeable” one in the house (read: appears to know a lot about stuff because of old trusty google), I took upon the task of introducing the two pups. I tried to control Taco’s aggressive behavior by distracting him with play when he starts barking at Mocha. I thought she was afraid of him. Until morning came.

I wish I have the video I took of them, play-fighting. I uploaded it on Snapchat but didn’t download ’cause I thought I’d have the privilege of witnessing more of it for the next years. Gahd, she was fierce. For a pup her size, to take on the alpha role (I read on google that upon first meeting, dogs try to figure out their positions within the pack. The obvious hypothesis was that Taco would be the dominant one, given his enthusiasm and size. Boy, was I wrong) barking at Taco when he pesters her too much. She looked so adorable, with that high-pitched bark of hers. It was comparable to the sound of baby shoes.

Mostly, she lay on the floor. Occasionally acknowledging our presence by wagging her tail and offering her belly for us to rub.

I didn’t spend so much time with her then, ’cause Apro’s too excited to play with the new addition to the family. Mocha might get too exhausted, dealing with two over-energetic beings, and though I wanted to pet her and cradle her like a baby, I kept it to minimum ’cause she might grow accustomed to being handled and would be demanding on it later on. She wasn’t as expressive  Her second day was fine. No signs of impending danger at all.

Third day came, and my father was saying that she didn’t eat her lunch. I tried getting her to eat in the afternoon and night, but everything I tried to entice her was left abandoned. That day, I was having PMS, I think. I felt sad for no apparent reason and was being weird with my friends, asking them to tell me sad stories or recommend sad films for me to watch. I still felt unsatisfied at the end of the day, so I decided to sneak Mocha upstairs to the bedroom so I could try to cheer myself up. I also offered her different food, but they only received a sniff and glance.At first she kept pacing through rooms, trying to be familiar with the new environment, I think. I was editing my floor plan for proposed Ortega residence (lol i sound so professional) and I took her up on the bed ’cause I just wanted to see her sleep and be comfortable. I guess it’s therapy.

A few hours in, she started acting a little clingy (lol). She tried to rest her little head on my arm or stomach, but since she’s so small, her neck leaned on a difficult angle. Eventually, she gave up and settled by my side, but I guess it was hot so she would walk to the area where my body’s not blocking the air from the fan. Repeat and repeat.

By 7am or so, she stood at the edge of the bed, as if wanting to go down. That was when it went downhill. This was the part when her symptoms became more severe. I saw her vomit water, I cleaned up her excrement. I became more worried as the day went on, ’cause I observed that she’s suddenly dehydrated, but was having diarrhea. She kept drinking water, but she vomited it back. Her nose wasn’t moist (this is the ultimate sign that a dog is not healthy). And the turning point was when I saw her latest stool which was reddish (meaning it has blood, according to google). I waited for my father to come home so I could ask him to take her to the vet.

When he did, though, he was dismissive about her. Talking about shit like she could be replaced easily and joking (to Apro) that she should be buried right away (yes, alive) so she doesn’t have to experience the torture of being sick anymore (’cause apparently being buried alive is better than being sick). I was convinced that it was something that could be treated, and fuming with anger and hatred for the cold-hearted piece of shit. So after conversing with several people to secure my funds for the vet transaction, I set off with Apro to take her. I don’t fucking want any of that damn bastard’s money to spend on her meds or treatment.

I don’t want to go into full detail about her last night and day. Just that, I thought she’d be fine in the morning. It looked like she regained some energy upon being connected to the dextrose (or dextrose equivalent for dogs). I was tired that night ’cause I had no money except for downpayment ’cause she was confined. Apro and I walked back and forth to Pacita, etc. I woke up after midnight and angry-cried.

Before noon, I received a text from the vet, saying her condition has worsened. That was when reality hit me. I was too optimistic about her treatment, I didn’t even stop to think that it could turn out differently. Wishing for some miracle, while also bracing myself for the worst case scenario, I set out to prepare myself to go out.

I dropped by the vet before going to Gabrielle’s. I was already tearing up in the house, but I wanted to look unaffected, apathetic and strong because of the POS (pc of shit). The first step I took outside the house, my tears literally burst and I cried on the way to the vet. I was thinking then how messed up my family relationship is, ’cause it’s more okay for me to cry in public, on the streets, than cry inside the house. I tried to suppress my sobs as the vet told me the situation (which I have prepared myself for). I asked her if I could come back at 4pm (’cause I can’t ditch my appointment with Gabrielle’s father) and the vet said she might not last that long. Gawd, I felt so fucking crushed. I wanted to like telepathically tell her to hold on, but couldn’t bring myself to, ’cause she’s so fucking small and I don’t want to pressure her and she’s in so much pain and gawd what the fuck i thought i was going to spend the rest of my summer break happy and now it’s guaranteed i’m not. I fucking fought for this and was told I was too late. WHAT THE FUCK, LIFE?

I received a text sometime after 1pm, saying she passed away. I texted my benefactor to update him on the situation. As Gabrielle’s dad ate lunch, I kept excusing myself ’cause I was receiving calls asking what happened etc etc. I cried outside and went back in to wash my face so I could look presentable while designing the plans. I braced myself for the possibility of having to ask for POS’s help to bury her body, since we don’t have a place to bury her on. Good thing Gabrielle asked for Ate Trish’s help so we decided to bury her in Macaria instead. Plus I got to actually take part in the whole process. It was sort of an intimate funeral.

After that I drank 3 bottles of beer (thank you so much, Gabrielle) and we went home before 8pm. I badly wanted to get drunk but I don’t have money to buy booze so I just tried to stick to the tipsy feeling but I started sobering up like 2 hrs after.

To conclude, I still don’t know what made me love Mocha more than the other pets I had. Maybe it’s the PMS, maybe it’s the “connection” when she slept beside me, maybe it’s symbolical (like ’cause I hate POS right, and I stood up to him but then I was fucking proved wrong. thanks, life), maybe it’s ’cause I was the one who named her (it’s sort of a big deal, ’cause it somehow makes me feel like she’s actually mine). I don’t know. But it just feels like I can’t love another pet for a very long time after this. Not even her siblings who now reside in the house. I can’t even bear to go near them. They remind me too much of her.

So yeah, I just wanted to share these things. Someday I’ll read this post and I’ll remember how much I loved this baby pup. Gahd, I don’t think I can actually own a pet after this. I won’t get over this in just a week. I somehow feel like I’ve lost a purpose for life? I feel like I lost a dear friend. It sounds really absurd ’cause it’s just four days. But I swear to god I love her so fucking much and I would kill to spend more time with her.


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