Eulogy: Vicky the white dog
When the day is done,
You shall pass on to sleep.
Bark to your heart's content,
At all the neighbours,
Running after the neighbours
Making all the young girls cry
And all the young men run away.
Sleep, sleep into the night
When you will pass on into doggie heaven
And have a barkful life
Full of doggie treats
And rats to bite.
And all the dogs to fight with.
But sleep you must
Sleep will you soon
And sleep indeed you will, Vicky
I could not let this dog pass away without leaving an entry in my blog.
Vicky was there throughout many important points of my life living here in KL although for some parts of the years I was living abroad in Australia.
Vicky was there throughout many important points of my life living here in KL although for some parts of the years I was living abroad in Australia.
I can't remember when Vicky was brought into my household, but my father found him as part of a litter from an acquaintance which he took home.
I remember Vicky living in my household from early 2005, and I can only make a guess that he came into my home about the year 2004. So in counting, he would have lived roughly about 9 years in human years.
I remember taking him out for walks, running up the hill with him, feeding him, and giving him dog baths which he wasn't too fond of but had to reluctantly oblige. All which my mother and brother weren't too fond of doing so it was left to me and my father to do the dog domestic chores.
The picture above was taken some time this year in March using my new camera. Before 2006, I did not actually own a proper camera, so I do not actually have proper pictures of my dog in the early days. Vicky was not a model home dog, but neither were we model pet owners.
Vicky was a dog with a strong character and a strong and loud bark, and used it to his advantage when neighbours walked past, and loved to frighten high school girls who walked past our home. He also liked to chase rats that he found at home and also a male friend who ran away... (long story, Calvin).
Anyways, he's always got into scrapes with neighbourhood dogs so we had to keep him on a leash at all times. But it wasn't until this last recent round that he got himself into a serious fight with neighbourhood dogs and got himself seriously wounded. Perhaps God knows it was time for him to go (seeing he's already aged 9 human years ish, possibly 63 years in dog life).
The night before he was taken away, I wiped his body gently with a damp cloth. Vicky just laid on the ground and closed his eyes as I patted him. Perhaps he already knew it was his time to go. The following morning, my father finally called the vet to come and take him away. Unfortunately I was away at work when the vet came, so I could not bid my last words to him.
My father told me he obediently followed the staff from the vet, and he didn't even have any bark in him left.
My last memories of him were of him lying quietly on his side on the tiled ground with his eyes closed as I patted him lovingly.
I remember taking him out for walks, running up the hill with him, feeding him, and giving him dog baths which he wasn't too fond of but had to reluctantly oblige. All which my mother and brother weren't too fond of doing so it was left to me and my father to do the dog domestic chores.
The picture above was taken some time this year in March using my new camera. Before 2006, I did not actually own a proper camera, so I do not actually have proper pictures of my dog in the early days. Vicky was not a model home dog, but neither were we model pet owners.
Vicky was a dog with a strong character and a strong and loud bark, and used it to his advantage when neighbours walked past, and loved to frighten high school girls who walked past our home. He also liked to chase rats that he found at home and also a male friend who ran away... (long story, Calvin).
Anyways, he's always got into scrapes with neighbourhood dogs so we had to keep him on a leash at all times. But it wasn't until this last recent round that he got himself into a serious fight with neighbourhood dogs and got himself seriously wounded. Perhaps God knows it was time for him to go (seeing he's already aged 9 human years ish, possibly 63 years in dog life).
The night before he was taken away, I wiped his body gently with a damp cloth. Vicky just laid on the ground and closed his eyes as I patted him. Perhaps he already knew it was his time to go. The following morning, my father finally called the vet to come and take him away. Unfortunately I was away at work when the vet came, so I could not bid my last words to him.
My father told me he obediently followed the staff from the vet, and he didn't even have any bark in him left.
My last memories of him were of him lying quietly on his side on the tiled ground with his eyes closed as I patted him lovingly.
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