My neighbour’s dog, that really became my dog too, just passed away this evening. I was out at a dinner, and I came back late because there was someone needing help on my way back. Along the corridor, my neighbour, the elderly uncle, sat there and said, Junah si diao. (Junah died).
I looked inside, and a part of me was in such a shock that I did not really understand what was going on for a good minute. I was like, wait what. Why. How. What’s going on? She’s just lying there in the box right, shes okay right?
My heart was really so broken. I did not know what to do. I stood at the gate, listening to the aunty cry and tell me how she passed, and how she had tried so hard to give Junah medicine, and bringing her to the vet and still she passed on. It was so many things. Aunty’s third son, Lucas, came back just to stay and say goodbye to Junah too. It was just so much to deal with.
I asked if I could come in, and they said yes sure, and I patted Junah’s stiffened body. I remembered all the times when she came over, and I would pat her sides, and brush her ears. Rubbing behind both of them, and then she would nudge my hand to continue doing it until she was happy. Then I would pat beneath her tummy, and she was just sit or stand there until I stopped, and then nudge me to do that again and again. I’ve passed afternoons doing this.
Junah was a form of pet therapy for me. I was happy to have her over, and have her meet every single person who came to my house, even though she wasn’t even my dog. The last time I saw her and got to pat her was after one of my exercise times, and I let her in to run around a bit. This was probably last week, early along the week.
She helped me survive COVID, because she literally was the only thing running between our house and our neighbours house. She would come over and ask to be petted, and I would indulge, time and time again. She would sit in one of our chairs and just enjoy the afternoon. Or she might sit at our front door and look out, lazing. Just her presence was something that I appreciated and looked forward to.
There were times when she came over with some sort of adornment: a new collar, a gold chain once. It was so cute and she was really happy with it, but at the same time I knew those were parts where they would love to get scratched at too. So that was another “scratch me” time.
Having Junah next door was always something that I actually planned on coming back to. I thought that when I moved away from Jalan Minyak, I would come back to give Junah a gift, pet her a bit, and catch up with Aunty and Uncle about life. Now it seems like I won’t ever have that. I would just need to come back and catch up with Aunty and Uncle without Junah.
My heart is broken in many ways. I am sad that I don’t have this four legged friend to come over on the afternoons. I am sad that my neighbours are missing their beloved pet of 9 years, a gift from their dog before, Junah’s mum, who also lived for about 9 years too. Junah leaves no other dogs behind, but memories of COVID, memories of Minyak.
I cannot imagine how life would have been without Junah around, especially coming into this apartment. On the first week moving in here, Junah barked at us continually, being really afraid of us, and just not sure what to do as a whole. Eventually she would come in, and get her pats. Eventually she would leave a place in my heart, and be a pride of my living experience here. I wanted everyone to pat Junah too, whether they were allergic to dogs or not.
I wish I could hug her one more time alive. I wish that I had also helped out bringing her to the vet. But she’s not even my dog. But I feel connected to her, that I cared for her existence in the world, and the world indeed is worse off without her. It is heartbreaking. It is truly heart breaking.
I sat there patting Junah’s dead body, crying, and just hearing over and over again the stories of Junah that Aunty shared, as she cried. I sat there for as long as a neighbour could really sit there for, but it was also because it just got later and later. It was midnight when I stepped into the house, and I left after half an hour. I cried some more at home, and just sat on the floor, remembering the times when I sat with Junah there. Letting her get her pats, and tummy rubs. Letting her be my neighbours dog for a short while.
Life here in Jalan Minyak is not the same without the pets, without the people. I am constantly reminded that life as a whole is made up of so many memories, so many different parts. I could almost say that I wish I could do something to bring Junah back, but honestly I can’t. There’s no such thing as that in life, other than the Christian resurrection that I already believe in. That’s all I have. I look forward to that day when the dead will come back to life. I look forward to seeing my cousin, my grand uncle, my grandma, my grand aunt, and now Junah. I miss all of them, and I am constantly reminded that life would not have been the same without them.
I am sad. My heart is broken. Junah is not here, not next door, not down the corridor. She is gone from the earth. I wish she was here, for my selfish reasons. I wish I could pat her one more time. But I can’t. She’s not even my dog. I am so sad. She’s not even my dog and I am so heartbroken.
I would have not survived living here without her here.
I hope she is in a better place. I am glad that she is no longer sick, but I am not glad that she died. I am sad.
Life cannot be lived without remembering the dead. I will remember Junah, and those who have passed on. I have to remember them, because at the end of the day, death is truly inevitable.