Decay: A Letter to My Dog

It’s a strange feeling writing this, knowing that you will never be able to read it yourself. It is difficult harbouring such intense feelings with no accessible medium to express them to you, so I guess this is more for myself than it is for you. I am desperately trying get these feelings off my chest, but knowing that you won’t hear them leaves me wondering if this void that is receiving them is going to offer any catharsis at all.

I think of you almost every day. I left our home what feels like a lifetime ago now; I had no way to communicate that to you either. I wonder if you have moments where you think of me too. When you sit in your basket under the stairs, as you often do so pensively, do your thoughts ever wonder to that boy that you used to know? My sudden absence must have been a shock for you. When we met for the first time, you were a baby and I was a child. I remember you falling asleep on my lap during the car ride home. I miss the games we used to play together. I miss our walks. I miss you coming to keep me company, sitting under my desk or on my lap as I wrote. It’s lonely here in this place without you, and I struggle to write this now without the comfort of your presence. Now I’m almost thirty and you are an old man, and I find myself stuck in time, longing for something that doesn’t exist anymore. It saddens me that I no longer know who you are, and that you don’t know the man that I have become. I wish I could tell you how much I love you, and I wish you could understand.

When I left, did you mourn me? I’m sorry you went through that, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t explain to you why I had to leave. I have so many questions and my soul is weeping for you, as it reluctantly accepts that it will never know your answers, as it reluctantly accepts that it will never know you. Does your soul weep for me too?

The last time I saw you was during my visit home two years ago now. You had grown more reclusive and passive in your nature as you had aged, but we had one moment where it was as if time had stood still all those years, we inhabited our previous bodies and had just pressed resume. Do you remember it? I went down on my hands and knees to bring myself to your level, and I gave a playful growl to test your temperament. There was a spark of youth in your eyes as you ran towards me. I playfully pushed you away and you sprang back at me with a juvenile burst of energy. I pushed you away again and this time you came back at me with everything you had. You opened your jaw and clamped your sharp teeth around my arm ever so gently, holding them there, not biting down. Joyfulness left my body through jolts of laughter. But then I saw you; I saw you as you were. That spark of youth had diminished from your eyes and you now looked confused as to what we were doing as you released my arm from your docile clutch. Your body was unconsciously acting through muscle memory; a memory we were both reliving of what it once was, of who we once were.

Mum and Dad tell me you’re not so well now, and that breaks my heart. I see pictures of the old man that you’ve become, and I can’t believe how quickly you’re changing. It's not fair, I’m sorry. I often wonder how you would receive me if I came back. Would my scent be familiar to you? And if so, will you remember where it comes from? If I come back to see you, will you perceive me as a stranger? I wonder if we will have another moment like before; if time will have stood still again, allowing us to have one last triumph together and reclaim our lost youth.

But I’m scared.

I’m scared of ringing that doorbell and not hearing your bark. I’m scared of that door opening and not feeling your energetic, welcoming embrace. You’re my buddy, my best friend, my brother. I’m scared of seeing you and looking into your eyes, as you look into mine, and we see each other for the first time for what we have become.

Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave a comment, and if you like my writing and would like to follow me, I would really appreciate it. Thanks again.

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Decay: A Letter to My Dog was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.