Oh, My Darling. Goodbye.

Farewell Laila. You crazy dog. Farewell my darling girl. There are many words I'm going to say. But they all will be versions of these : I will miss you. I loved you. I wish I had been around more often.

I remember after you were born and all your brothers and sisters had been bought and sent off to what I hoped were happy homes. I remember you, in the corner refusing to cry. Sitting with your perfect little head on your heartbreaking little paws staring up at me with eyes big enough to hold your soul, wondering why nobody wanted you. You never whined. Even when your adorable, exhausted mother got long sick of you and ran back into the freedom of the lawn and shook off her maternal fat. Even when you refused to step out of the shed and into the lawn and join us, your zany family. Even though every night the shed would rattle and leaves outside would rustle as bigger things than dogs brushed against them. You never whined. You stared at the world with those moist eyes - and wondered.

It took me five hours in winter to coax you out of the shed and into the outhouse with the guards. Five hours of inching backwards, whistling and singing and cooing till my jaw ached. You'd wag your tail and trot towards me but stop out of arm's reach. Your tail would wag slower and slower as your expression turned serious. You'd then sit and look around. Ready for anything out here in this little bit of the world that could scare you back into the shed. When nothing came we moved further. And stopped. And continued.

Five hours.

I loved you the second I saw you. I could say I have loved all of my dogs the same. But that would be a lie. I loved your grandfather like he was my own brother. I loved Tuki like he was another. And you. I have always loved you since the first day I saw you sit apart from you horde of siblings and stare the other way. You, whose tail would wag only when I would look up from the others bumbling around my feet as I lay down their food, and our eyes met and I smiled. Only then. And a single wag. A shy little shift. That was all I ever got. But it was always enough.

I hated leaving home. And all of you. The safety, the serenity, the cocoon of love. The smell of the jasmine outside my room, and the incense my mother lit in the house. My father's far too liberally applied aftershave, and the kitchen at noon. I hated to go out into the world and pretend to be an adult. I wish I could have seen you more often, sat with you, learnt all the little jokes you had to tell. Wrapped up in self-obsession and the demands of life, I would always leave.

I will miss you barking reproachfully at me as I return home for the winter. How your tail would be wagging and yet your voice full of anger and hurt. How you would skip away every time I tried to hug you, growling and gnashing your teeth. It would be only after I'd had a shower, when I had leaped into my zany colored house pajamas and t-shirt would you laugh and lick my hand. Because you knew what the pajamas meant - I was here to stay for a bit.

I will miss how you would come and sit by feet at night on my verandah. In the deep, quiet parts of the night we would sit, me trying to write, you trying to get my attention with soft licks of your tongue. And when I would look down, you'd be smiling up at me, tongue lolling, eyes twinkling with the lights from my computer screen. How every couple of words I wrote, you would paw my foot with yours and insist on a belly rub. Enough writing. Time for cuddling. How angry you got at all the new dogs we ever got, because I spoke to them in that voice you remembered but never heard from me anymore. How angry you got with me, because I never really understood what you wanted to say.

Nobody wanted you. Because you were meant for me. I'm sorry I could never take you away with my when I left. I'm sorry I ever left. I'm sorry I ever got irritated with you when all you wanted was some belly scratching and inane cooed versions of your name from me. I'm sorry I didn't love you as much as you loved me.

I'm crying as I write this darling. I will miss you dearly.

Now go bother God.