It has been 100 days since my dog died

my dog died

It has been more than three months since Kaalicharan left for her place in the clouds.

100 days & nights, sunrises & sunsets, since my dog died but it is not sadness alone that I carry around my neck like a cinder-block.  Not just maps to memories and melancholia.

Out here in the sleepy Turkish suburb, two-and-a-half-hours from Nainital time, I wish for a place far enough to run to. Fantastic in it’s subtleties, a map of lands not yet discovered. Wherein there are no reasons for moving. Somewhere where time difference is in a poetic precision with Einstein time warps, a parallel universe where I’d still have my dog.

And why should I relent until Laika is on her way, way back…

We all eventually meet ourselves again, Peru knows this.  Perhaps this is how everything that is happiness becomes relevant.

my dog has died
So close no matter how far… ~Image courtesy Virginia

As the morning turns to an auburn afternoon, measured in coffee cups, a feral cat makes herself comfy by my feet.  Her fur stuck on my corduroy trousers. Seen from a far, you might take me for a writer in recluse, longing for a sense of belonging somewhere.

Anywhere.

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Published by Abhishek Joshi

The man who was Peter Pan — aka 'Dog With Blog'. Raconteur, Reader, Backpacker... If I were an element, I'd be radioactive.

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1 Comment

  1. I am sorry. For all of us who have loved our dogs and lost them, the pain never goes away, it just lessens with time. Their suffering near the end still makes us cry, but soon we are also able to remember the times we laughed together. One can never come to terms with the loss, though. It’s just a small hope in our hearts that we will meet again, that keeps us going. And yes, the canine friends they left behind.

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