that I gave Tonia was this morning. She was on her side and when she noticed my voice, she turned her head to me. I reached down to give her a pat on her soft, flat head. Her eyes followed me while her legs stretched my way. Two of her legs lifted so she could expose her tummy. Her skin a light rosy pink where her white and black fur don't touch.
I knew what she wanted. A belly rub and pat.
She loved to sunbathe so that a little halo of sunlight reflected off her white and black dotted fur. Specifically, a black ear, and a white ear. The black covering one eye only. And at the base of her tail, she's white except for one black spot on the right of her cheek. An entirely black tail. Those little black eyes, closed, small lips rounded into a small maybe smile, taking in the sun. Whenever my shadow covered the sun on her face, she'd open her eyes and know it was me.
She loved anything with beef in it. She once bit, maybe ate, a cat and a pigeon before, or simply bit them hard enough that they bled out and painted her white mouth red. That's when we looked at her in horror. The neighbors accused our new dog of killing their cat. Yen and I looked at our dog, innocent and small and maybe mean but a killer? A cat chewer?
"You've got the wrong guy," we said, while we sent them our sorrows and confusion. It really can't be her. With her black dotted back turned to us, Tonia was guilty and our Dad knew that but failed to tell us, until a decade later. Yen and I stood at the bedroom door piecing together the day Tonia went rogue.
She liked taking her rounds 'round the neighborhood and escaping the heat by lying on our cool tile floors. The constant sniffing and acquainting with different scents along the sidewalks and other people's gates and other people's dogs. She didn't grow up friendly. In fact, she never was, not to anyone wearing blue or any dog that dared to pee the sidewalk before our house or any stranger strutting beyond 10 pm, but as the years wore her down and the same mailman proved to be innocent of whatever every other dog was accusing him of, she stopped barking.
Perhaps it wasn't because of anyone's innocence. Perhaps she simply grew tired of the fuss. The last 3 years of her life was a silence. Any bark that came out sourced from casual conversation, not accusation.
She enjoyed being an only child, throwing the biggest fuss, the loudest barks at the newcomer. The most she ever tolerated was with our slow, fat dog, Wooly. Yet with all the confidence she had in our gated home, she was mouse-shy in unfamiliar territory, a timid, socially awkward dog in front of other people's houses.
I would learn this whilst biking with her. Unleashed, she ran freely beside me on the street. Just a few paw steps behind. If I paused, she'd pause. And if she was far off, I'd simply raise my voice, "Tonia!" Those adorable faraway steps would pitter-patter closer. It wasn't walking my dog. It was biking with her. The length of this small neighborhood became magical with her next to me. Wind in my hair, Tonia alongside me like my princess. A promise.
Once we accidentally locked her outside the house gates. We came home at 9 pm. Most dogs would search for their freedom long ago, but when our family car pulled up slowly to the entrance, her little medium-thick body stirred sleepily. She used her front legs to push herself up and her eyes slowly opened, staring at our car as if expectant.
"Where were you?" she seemed to ask. Her little body by the exact spot where we open our gate. Oh how much we inconvenienced her that evening. And oh, how she made sure we knew it.
Her 14 years of life with us were a mix of human food and dog food. She loved anything stir fry, with beef, or a good poached egg. And smaller kibble went down easy.
She was a soccer dog. If a soccer ball came, then she was there to intercept. Never return them. Just intercept and put it in its place -- the exact way she intercepts other dogs that wander in.
I knew her as a toddler. A teenager. A middle-aged woman. And then an elderly family member.
The beautiful thing of life is sometimes what you want isn't what you need.
I didn't want to job search for as long as I did, whilst living at home. I wanted to be on my own quick after college.
But what I needed was to be with family and the most important family member I know, Tonia.
I am grateful for the time given to me to properly re-learn Tonia again. As a being and as a personality.
The first time I ever drove a car on my own, unsupervised as a licensed driver, was because I wanted to buy her a new dog bed and snacks so badly. Noting that my Dad was asleep, I stole his keys and pulled his truck out the driveway like a renegade. Giant dog-treat-shaped bed in hand and new snacks, I shoved them into the truck while I drove so carefully, butt-scared home for all of 5 minutes. She gave me all these reasons to level up in the past difficult year of my life, so I can best take care of her.
I acquainted her with the giant bed for a bit, until an hour later, I found her half on it, half off, with her hind legs touching the tile. Her front legs reaching forward, eyes closed.
She also learned my habits too. When it was me that came home late that night. When it was me that called out her name or pushed tasty stir fry onto her plate. When it was me that blew dry her fur after the warm tub bath, mosquitoes nipping us both. When it was me that rested my hand on her head and whispered on my way out/my way in, "I love you." Each time, she received it with all silence and peace in the world.
The times when I felt like she really knew who I was was when I'd first get home from a long day at the nail salon. She'd skip on past my Dad, past my Mum, and she'd walk towards me. Or whenever late at night, 11 pm and I'm walking around, checking on the moon, she'd follow me about, even if I was walking the farthest corner of the house. As long as she knew of it, she would be closely behind me, curious at my curiosity. And I knew her as well to know that she doesn't follow my Mom or Dad around so freely. That she follows me because she prefers it. In my company, she is her true, easy-going self. And I know that and how beautiful it feels, to be one of her favorites.
Perhaps she understood every time I whispered "I love you" after all.
In her last month, even if she'd struggle the long 30 seconds to get up, if I didn't already notice and help her, she'd happily try to get up and follow me on my walks around the house. Right behind me, as if we were biking. 3-5 rounds around the place like a quarter mile school loop. I would comment on a leaf or walk in silence. In those grass-and-flower-scented evenings so dark blue that Tonia almost glowed, we'd communicate to each other with our little steps in the grass, pitter patters to prove we were there.
