Pictured with me is Cassie, the only dog that captured my heart. You divorce people, you don't divorce children (Quote from of all movies, Clueless?). So if she were alive, she'd still be my daughter.I'm more of a cat person. Dogs are not my thing. But there was something about this one.
Cassie had a funny walk. I found after couple of months that because of some monster leaving blades on a backyard, her hind leg ligaments were torn, so she couldn't walk properly. But she still insisted on climbing down the staircases from the 5th floor. I made sure that we would come back in the elevator from when I found out.
In the wintry December mornings of Chicago, I'd wake up earlier, take her out for her morning potty break, let her run in the snow across the brown line El tracks for a bit, pretend to run with her, and then come back and wake up her owner. I knew that she was part of me when I found myself brushing her teeth with hand mittens, and picking up her poop without a second thought. And I knew that I was accepted when I found her walking up from behind and rubbing her tail across my legs.
After I got back to Bangladesh, I almost forgot about her. We now had six cats staking out our compound in Dhaka. I found out two years later via email that she was having problems with her bladder and vision, and was put to sleep. It came as such a shock that I couldn't concentrate on anything for several days.
What would be my life like, if I had to stay confined in a room all day, take two potty breaks everyday, eat dry bits from a bowl, and only being able to run around in the evening for like ten minutes? Would I love my master unconditionally still?
We are not born with that much love to give, are we?
