#i just wanted to pass by and pretend i didnt see someone peeing in public but noooo the dog took personal offense to this

[orcelito]

Very definitely have Bite Shape on my leg now :/

[fernsandsunflowers]

Hi guys,

I never really make personal posts on here but I wanted to talk about my little buddy somewhere that was both public and private at the same time.

This is Zorro, I was almost 11 when we first met. My parents brought him as a bday surprise for my brother. I didn’t know they were going to get him a dog so I squealed when I saw my mother sneak him into the pantry to hide him away. The moment my brother set off to stay the night at a cousin’s I ran to the pantry and knelt on the floor. He was hiding behind a kitchen chair, peaking at me from behind one of the legs. I called to him and he tilted his head staring at me, a little unsure…I called again and his mouth broke into a giant smile and he bounded towards me, missed the landing and crashed right into my leg. We have been inseparable ever since. That night we gave him milk, the same amount we used to make for a giant German shepherd we dogsat a couple weeks ago, and he drank the ENTIRE bowl. His tummy got so big it dragged on the floor and he couldn’t walk straight. I begged my parents to let him sleep in my room. They reluctantly agreed, and I ended up spending the entire night mopping the floors because he peed EVERYWHERE. My parents brought him for my brother, but he was always mine. He followed me everywhere, even if I was just walking two feet away. He would wait outside the bathroom door for me. when I was in school, he’d come to the gate by 1pm and sit and wait for me to come back home. When I started work, he would wait at the gate by 4pm. When he got older, he’d wait by the doorway of my room or in the tv room his head facing the front door.

He was the number 1 fan of pets, he hated when I came home smelling like other dogs, he loved little kids and would let them torture him to no end - when my cousin was born my aunt stayed with us and that was the one time Zorro didn’t follow me around, he would stay by the door to their room and bark or come call someone the moment the baby started to stir. I also have this seriously hyper kid cousin who used to just throw stuff at him and poke him, and he wouldn’t bat an eye, he’d go and sit by him and let him do his thing - He loved to eat chicken, his favorite fruit was mangoes, and he used to eat anything we gave him as long as he knew we were eating it too. He loved to roll around in grass, and pee on mom’s new plants. When he was younger and did something naughty and mom would yell at him he’d get his revenge by going to her favourite plants, carefully biting off a flower and going and showing it to her. He didn’t give a rats ass about thunder, he’d sleep right through thunderstorms, but he HATED fireworks. We’d have to tie him up and give him some Piriton to help him sleep, but he was never one to be forced into anything. For a small dog he was strong, he’d manage to break out, fight the sleepiness and actually try to catch the firecrackers. You’d think this is impossible, but I come from Sri Lanka, even kids handle fireworks in my country, and a lot of the time we use fireworks that go off on the floor. One of my favourites was this one that would spin like a wheel on the ground, one time he got loose and chased one of them down the street trying to catch it in his mouth. Half the neighbourhood ran after him screaming to try and get him away. I was in hysterics for hours. But he was fine, except for a few burnt whiskers… His sense of smell was never really the same after that - we’d play hide and seek and he’d run right passed me sniffing at the floor. He loved walks, as most dogs do. Sri Lanka also has a lot of strays and my neighbourhood has its own little gang of like 15 dogs. They’d follow us on walks from a distance and I’d always be terrified they’d jump on him. But Zorro completely ignored them and I later figured out that he was actually sniffing out and peeing where the other dogs pee… he’s just that salty. He had long hair that curled at the end and my Cats loved to play with them. They’d slide along the floor and attack him as he walked and he’d stand there and let them have their fun. He never once snapped or growled at them. He hated when I’d start singing, he would tolerate it for about 10 minutes and then would start huffing pointedly. It didn’t stop me from writing him and singing him a lullaby, he didn’t seem to mind that one so much. I used to play the piano when I was younger and he’d make me stop by jumping onto the keys and walking all over them. He once saw a garden snake come up behind me and attacked it. Another time, a bird got fried on the overhead street wiring and my mom kept it on a rock while she went to find her gardening tools so she could dig a grave for it. When she came back the bird was gone and Zorro was covered in dirt. He had buried the bird himself. You’d think this is nothing, dogs often bury bones and things, but this is the first and only time Zorro has ever buried anything. We have a rambutan tree in our home whose branches fall onto our roof, the two of us would climb up to the roof every fruiting season and sit and eat rambutan. He liked the bitter ones the most which worked out great because I liked the sweet. He loved sweets too, cakes and candies and the rare tiny piece of chocolate. We’d have to take care to never keep anything within reach of him… things used to mysteriously disappear anyway. He learned pretty soon that when he was sick he was more likely to get sweets, we used to hide his pills in cakes and gummies, so he would pretend to be ill. He’d limp a little when people were a round and act like he can’t get up. Dad’s favourite story was the time he caught Zorro, who we thought had somehow injured his ankle (he even whined when the vet touched his ankle, she said nothing seemed broken or twisted, it must just be sore because he slept on it wrong so prescribed him something for the pain), walking normally and start limping, on the wrong foot, when he spotted my dad. 

He was beautiful, his fur always shone and his hair was thick and long, he had little eyebrows and even eyelashes. I have never seen a cocker spaniel in Sri Lanka that looked as beautiful and as healthy as he did. You might say I’m biased but every vet we’ve ever been to and every person who’s ever seen him said the same. We had several little proposals for him but they never worked out. We had three girls brought home for him but he HATED them all. The poor things tried so hard to make friends with him but he lashed out at them. Eventually we stopped trying. My brother and I are pretty sure this was because he was gay. During mating season we’d sometimes find him staring longingly at the local dog gang (all male) through the bars of the gate. He loved Tuk Tuk rides because he was just too short to see out the car window. He walked the streets like he owned them and it showed, people would come out of their homes to fawn over him and he’d trot along, head held high. If he was in the way of oncoming traffic, no matter what the vehicle, it was clear that he would not move from it but the vehicle had to move for him. Every vehicle in the neighbourhood knew to make a nice, wide turn, away from his path because he wasn’t going to change his. About 4 months ago our garden wall was broken down for reconstruction and we had taken him out for his nightly pee and poop session. He was taking ages and mom and I were watching a show on tv. So we told him dad was on the way home and he’d let him in and went inside. He had decided to go looking for dad who worked about 150 metres away from our home. He’d one over the broken wall and made it to the main road. I was told that the Tuk Tuk drivers with the help of one of the traffic policeman had created a wall against oncoming traffic so he wouldnt get hit, and because he refused to let anyone touch him two men came running to our house to fetch us so we can bring him back home. Thank god he’s so famously known in town! He created a massive traffic jam and noone complained. Mind you he was deaf and blind at this point so we are pretty sure he simply followed dad’s scent because we have never taken him that way towards the main road before and dad’s the only one who takes that path and he was apparently very purposefully making his way to dad’s office building.

He grew to display behaviour so fundamentally similar to me that we were almost the same person. He hated potatoes, He loved chicken. He hated getting up in the morning and was most active in the night. He hated being helped, towards the end he found it difficult to get up, difficult to walk, but he always had to try by himself for several minutes before grudgingly allowing us to help him. He pretended to hate attention but loved being the centre of it. He hated having his picture taken and he liked baths only after he was in them. He was ticklish on his sides, he was grumpy in the mornings, he liked to go to places only for the ride, once we got to a place it was like ok home now. He was very mellow, he took everything in stride and never complained, he would be mad at you for approximately 2.5 seconds. He was friendly towards everyone but had his favourites… this showed. He was a little afraid of birds. He hated milk by itself and loved roasted dhal. He liked his bread buttered and only slightly toasted. He didn’t like being told what to do and would pathologically rebel, whether it was being asked not to sit during bathtime or being given sedatives at the vets before getting stitches (he was given enough sedatives to affect a much larger dog, but he refused to let it get to him and didnt even go to sleep that night). 

I should have accepted that his time was done, I shouldn’t have tried to force down his medicine. I think I caused him a lot of pain towards the end. I should have just let him be in peace. I shouldnt have carried him to the doctors every day. He hated being carried. I’m so scared that he hated me those last few days. I told him over and over that I was sorry, I just wanted to help. But a dog doesn’t understand all that. He’s gone now and and I caused him all that stress for nothing. And it’s breaking my heart.

He was my home for 14 years and 3 months and 9 days. I don’t really know how to be or do without him here. How am I supposed to want to come back home knowing he won’t be there waiting for me. How am I to sleep without the sound of his snores punctuating the air. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go to the washroom without hearing him padding to the door and loudly sniffing underneath it to see if I was there. I keep expecting to hear him bark softly from outside the door to let me know he was outside and not inside. I keep tripping on myself thinking he was lying on the floor and I was about to step on him. I couldn’t go to sleep yesterday because he didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to ask for a midnight snack or to let me know he needed to pee.

There was a brilliant sunset yesterday, the whole sky turned gold as we set him down in his little coffin and decorated his grave with flowers. There was a rainbow too. People sent me pictures, saying it was a sign. I don’t want a sign, I don’t want him up there. I want him home with me where he’s supposed to be.