I'm not about to publish up one of his cute and cuddly photos because I have plenty of such photos of him, so I'm putting up such a mean and crude one because that is just what he is - Special and one-of-a-kind.

The worst part was when I decided to write this blog post and switched on my computer, my trusty little laptop promptly logged into windows and displayed my ever so cute Windows Background - a photo taken during the better days, of Chubby and a Stitch softoy (as in, Lilo & Stitch). And yes, I burst out crying. Again. *rolls eyes*

I guess I am ok because I had mentally prepared for it for such an awful long time, which also goes to show how long the poor ol' dog suffered while his emo owner was trying to get a hold on herself so that she could award him with the last and final gift to him - of letting go.

I actually got to that stage today. This afternoon, to be exact. I was on half-day leave from work and my parents and I had just returned from the hospital. I told Mum that maybe she could help me drop a call to the people who can perform euthanasia at our house.

I don't want Chubby to be put down to sleep in a veterinary hospital on a cold and scary stainless steel bed. I want him to go at ease in the most comfortable place in the world, a house in Gambir Walk which we had called home for the last 10 years, and also the place where he remembers the layout the most, because when his eyesight began to fail him about 2-3 years back, he remembered the layout of the furniture so well he could roughly navigate his way and avoid obstacles.

But put a chair at where it wasn't placed before and I can assure you Chubby would knock into it, though he would learn, after a few times of knocking his head, that there IS NOW a chair there and he should start avoiding it.

I probably cried at least 5x or more over the long course of his Geriatric illnesses, at each step of the way that he had gotten worse.

At home, Chubby was like my shadow. Yes, he stalked me at every step. Sometimes, so near that I would accidentally step on one of his little paws and he would yelp, and then I would turn around and scold him for following me too close.

So when old age took over, I cried when I realised he couldn't climb the stairs as fast. I cried when the day came that he was not even able to climb the steps at all. And then cried again when I realised he was barely even able to stand on his feet when he had to relief himself. Each step was abit closer to today.

I cried again as he growled impatiently through the night to tell me something was wrong, for I did not know how to help, nor understand what was making it so difficult for him to just go to bed and sleep like he used to.

Yes, I am a crybaby when it comes to Chubby, such that if tears made me rich, I am rather close to being a millionaire. The simplest of things that go wrong with him could make me weep buckets (I've actually even cried in the office before).

In fact, I know that Dad felt really guilty about the whole thing because he told me that he bought Chubby for me with the intention of making me happy, and that if he knew I was going to cry so much over the dog, he would not have bought it. And yes, in case you were wondering, that made me cry even more.

I was glad that earlier just now in the evening at about 7+pm, before he passed away naturally, I managed to speak to him. Okay, not exactly audibly because I was busy, guess what! Crying! Haha, yea. I was a wreck and I'd bet the dog himself must have probably felt it too.

You see, my entire family always believed that animals do understand or are at least able to sense whatever you say to them, and so I believed in the same. Earlier in the day I had asked my mum a huge favour of doing the necessary so that Chubby can be humanely euthanised at home.

So I thought that it was only expected of me to explain it to Chubby as well, though he might not know what hit him but at least I sorta explained the, um.. clinical journey.. to him. It has got to be the lousiest one in the world, but it went along the lines of "Chubby darling, you must believe that whatever I decide and choose for you is for your own good."

I'm pretty sure he heard it, because he passed away a little over an hour later.

PS:

I would also like to extend thanks to the following:

- My parents and our helper, Marie, who were secretly trying to 'dispose of the evidence' by hiding his body from me, and was caught redhanded. By me.

- Shufang who keeps trying to offer to cheong down to my place like RIGHT NOW to accompany me and I have to .. um.. keep rejecting her advances *wriggle eyebrows*

- Val, who, already knowing I probably can't talk at the rate of my tear-flow, but still bothered to drop me a call from Down Under

- Shakila, who, well, better thank you in advance because I'm sure you'd have to help me in handling a few phone calls tomorrow.

...as well as all the rest of you (you all know who you are!)

And to end this post with a fitting closing, as per Junwei's words: Don't mourn for his passing but rejoice on the life that he had lived.