Dear Oreo,

Five years ago, when I first came to your house, you went straight for my face. For someone who is slow to receive love, I barely hesitated. I was thoroughly pampered by the truckload of kisses you gave me. You made everyone feel loved as quickly as you sniffed the crotch of those who entered your house. There are six people in your house, yet you’re the only one I’ve never been here without.

When you spent a day with me in my parents' house, even they - who hadn't interacted with dogs before - had a delightful time with you. To be fair, with your jet black hair cascading like a waterfall around those big, black eyes, how could anyone not be smitten by you right away? We're only human, but you, Oreo, you are something else.

I loved how I never needed to scream your name to find out where you were. "Oreo kaanum" said loudly enough would send you darting towards me, and there are very few feelings that are as adulating as your run that ends with a tail wag and a big, wet face kiss. I loved how you nibbled on my earlobes and how it always tickled me. I hope you enjoyed every nibble.

When I had to look after you, and it was just us at home, there were times when I would start feeling low for no apparent reason. As if telepathically, you'd come for a cuddle. I'll never know how you sniffed it, you brilliant little thing, but you always got it right. On so many evenings brimming with loneliness, it was you who stopped my heart from breaking. I'm forever indebted to you.

When we pretended to be looking for you, you’d help us with it. I still remember how wholeheartedly we all laughed when we discovered that you do that. When you searched all over the kitchen for the food you smelled, then came back to the living room to realise the food was right beside where you had been sitting, how far did your sense of smell fall? Only you could be as smart as a wizard and as dumb as a doorknob all at once. It’s overwhelmingly endearing.

One of the best memories I have of the football I brought back from Europe is using it to play with you. That football survived beach sand, synthetic courts, artificial turf, grass and even the tar of the streets, but the instant your teeth sunk into it, pop went its bladder. I’d have cried if anyone else had flattened that football, but all I could do when you did so was laugh and give you a hug. Nobody could stay mad at you, could they?

I’m sorry that your health has deteriorated so much so quickly. I’m sorry neither we nor the veterenarians could alleviate your pain. I’m sorry you won’t survive the week.

If watching you immobile, defeated and suffering is this gutting for us, I can’t begin to comprehend what you’re going through. The vet said that your pain is worse than the equivalent of labour pain. How are you not wincing, my love? Do you see the end coming? Are you calm at its imminence, as only the brave can be?

As I sit reminiscing all of the memories that I've been privileged enough to share with you, and wondering what you might be thinking, suddenly and all at once, the tears begin to flow, and as they do, I let the emotions embrace me. I hope that I loved you as well as you loved us all.

Perhaps it is time that I sensed that you’re feeling low, and sneak in for a cuddle. Thank you for always being my little spoon.

Perhaps it is for the best that you and I are the only ones crying in the silence of the night. Death is a heavy and overwhelming truth.

Let the smells carry you away, Oreo. I'll miss you, and I'll continue to love you.
Good boy!