As I write this post, I'm a little sad because it's about my first pet dog. I had him when I was younger and named him Scooby. Yes, after the animation tv series titled Scooby-Doo.
This dog was the most jolly and cheerful of all the dogs I have owned till date. And he was beautiful. His coat was a shade of light, golden brown with some white mixed in. Scooby was also a very neat dog. He would run outside the house to poop and pee unless I locked him in and forgot.
My Dad bought Scooby for me and my siblings from a neighbour when he was just a puppy. We loved him so much. I always shared my food with him. Whenever I was returning home from school, Scooby would see me from afar and run towards me in excitement. It always made me laugh and love him more.
Months later, Scooby began to lose weight for some inexplicable reason and sadly none of us noticed on time until it became obvious —he stopped eating.
Scooby had a good appetite. Why would he suddenly lose interest in food? My family became concerned, me the most because he was so dear to me. We believed it would pass the next day and he would be his cheerful self again.
Scooby stayed put in his dog house all day. When I checked on him, he would not move but stared at me with such mournful eyes. Like he was trying to tell me something. I was touched and became worried. I convinced my Dad that we must take him to the Vet the following morning.
Unfortunately, we totally forgot that the following day was election day in my country which means no movement till 4 pm in the evening.
Scooby became worse the following morning. I would not leave his side, hoping and praying that the Vet would open his office after the election.
By 4 pm, my Dad and I drove with Scooby in my arms to the Vet's office. It was closed. My heart broke. I was sad. We returned home and I tried to force Scooby to at least drink some milk. My Dad promised he would take us to the Vet first thing in the morning.
Scooby drank a little of the milk I forced down his throat. I did not realize the milk was his last meal. I stayed with him for a while. He groaned, yawned, slowly closed his mouth and gave up the ghost. Right before my eyes. I was helpless and unable to save him.
My pet dog died in my arms and my heart broke that night. I believed he would still be with us the following day and that the Vet would make him better.
That was how I lost my first pet dog.
I still miss you, Scooby. 💖
I hope you enjoyed reading my piece. This freewrite is inspired by the prompt "the last meal". Join the @freewriters community to receive daily prompts, hosted by @mariannewest.
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