His last hug

You know what’s twilight? Not Edward, or Belle, but the moment you see a tinge of orange hiding behind the clouds in the evening. That’s twilight, and it’s gorgeous how it makes the skyline look. It was then I realised evening prayers intruded the privacy of my mind, as I was thinking about how this could be the last time I’m stroking Lucky’s trimmed black coat.

He’s my German Shepherd, he feels like a carpet on my hands, and I had a gut feeling that it was his time to go soon.

Fly bites, skin allergies, teeth problems, even more fly bites – these were all the kinds of shit Lucky has been going through. One thing that was above the rest was arthritis. Vets weren’t of much help, and last time we thought they were, Zorro (Lucky’s dad) suffered a lot from just walking around and died one morning.

That morning, I was about to leave for my internship when I saw him lying down. For the few months before that day I had always woken him up from his deep sleep for fear that he was no longer alive. He didn’t wake up when I called his name that morning. His eyes were shut, a permanent escape from pain.

Tomorrow morning, another internship awaits, and I dread the thought of seeing Lucky lying down in the same position as Zorro last year. Zorro hated thunderstorms, and so does Lucky. I had managed to snuck both of them into the house because they were so scared. The guilt is sinking in, knowing that that’s all I had ever given them.

Twilight was dissolving into dusk, and the cracking sound of water meeting oil could be heard from the kitchen. I hugged him. Was probably the last one.



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