So long

Mickey seemed to be picking up. He started walking around. He still can't get up on the mini sofa we put out for him though.

He couldn't stand properly when I put him down after carrying him out of my room just now. Practically fell on his face.

Human food used to hold such great appeal for him. Now he appears to reject all food, unless it was shot down his mouth into his throat using a syringe.

I went out and saw him lying in a pool of his own urine. His head is arched back, limbs stretched out. I put my hand on his ribcage.

A heartbeat. He is alive. I took out one of his towels and wiped the urine off him and off the floor. I took a small light and shined it on his eye. Pupil reacted. So he can still see.

Day has broken. He's lying on his sofa in the same position again. My mum woke up. We couldn't tell what it was. She said to wait until my dad came back from work.

I went to sleep.

The next thing I knew my father was telling me that Mickey has passed away.

*****

Eight years ago around this time, a colleague of my mother's had a litter of puppies she wanted to give away for free. My mother took one. It was a Jack Russell with the fur and ears of a Cocker Spaniel, mostly black and white on the belly, ends of his feet and his snout.

His name that was given by the original owner was Prince. When we took him, the colour scheme of his fur prompted my mother to name him Mickey, after the mouse.

He spends most of his time looking for human food, barking at strangers at the door or lying on one of our beds. Sometimes we'll play with him with the bone made of cloth. It was his toy. He would chase and grab it each time he saw it.

He's a very fun dog. It's his terrier personality shining through when he woke me up with a facial on weekend mornings in his earlier days, or when he was stomping on the half-asleep me while being led around by my mum with his toy in the later days when he was older.

Eight years seems a little short for a dog his size. But anybody with a right mind would know that it is inevitable.

Goodbye, Mickey.

En route

I'm told he has a few weeks to live.

He's frail. And it's as if he has aged years in the two days he has spent in the clinic.

He will live out the last of his days being on a drip, force fed because of his wilted appetite, and so weak he can barely stand or even keep his eyes open.

I spent a lot of time with him, but I never really was his favourite. Most of it weren't spent in interaction or in taking care of his needs.

Every once in a while I would look at him and think to myself "I'm so lucky I have you".

It seems that like everything else, luck runs out sooner or later.

I'll go sleep now, while my parents bring him back to spend his last days here at home instead of a small cage in the clinic surrounded by strangers.

I want to see him when I wake up.

One end is enough

My stint at The Central as a taxi concierge is concluded. It was a good one and a half months.

Mickey is in hospital. On a drip.

Maybe I'll go see him later today.

Life

Met an old friend today on the way to work. We weren't really close or anything, just were in the same class in secondary school. We talked. Mostly the usual stuff. Other old friends. Schools, old and new. What we're doing, what we're going to do. The future.

It seems my job ends this Thursday afternoon, but the position won't be vacant it seems. The mall's management will be finally taking over this position, and they're apparently doing up the stand. Looks like the third gen concierge is going to get all blinged up.

I would say that of course it doesn't begin to solve the problem that is the design of the place. It'll be interesting seeing a mall smack dab in the middle of the CBD close down because of lack of human traffic.

I'm looking at Mickey right now. I don't know what to say. He hasn't been eating, and he's getting really weak. I wish I could bring him somewhere, but this stupid job has me tied down for the half of the day where normal people are up treating animals.

Don't you frakking die on me now.

Random is the new Lame

So I have a shitty job. At least it pays pretty well, considering the job specifications and my qualifications. Thing is, you don't need qualifications to be in this job. You just have to have a sense of direction and know how to use a telephone. A monkey could do this job for bananas.

Lame (or random, the new word for "lame", we'll get to that later) job aside, I'm recently watching an exciting series called "Numb3rs". It's interesting if you are intellectually stimulated by the process in which a college Applied Mathematics professor solves crime using math.

Otherwise you'll just be plain bored.

Does anybody remember when "random" started being used in place of "lame"? I can't really remember but it's not until recently that it has caught momentum and now everybody doing it. I don't know, it just kinda bothers me that nobody really knows where these terms come from. Like "lame", where did that come from? Does anybody remember? Did it replace some other word, like "loser" or a simple "that's not even funny"? And just so you know, the word that replaced "loser" was "noob". Thank the internet for that one.

I now herald the coming of the new word to condescend people when they do something you don't like.

Random is the new Lame.

I just got my pay by the way. It's nice to have one more digit in my balance again.