Mwc Space

How I Tried In Vain To Fill With Dog Hair The Empty Space In My Heart

Some spaces once emptied can’t be filled again.

Recently I went through one of the most excruciating experiences of my life — the death of my beloved Ceasar. He was taken away from our family abruptly. The last day we shared together will always be embedded in my memory.

That day, I decided to work at home, even though I had a pre-planned business meeting — something urged me to stay at home. His favourite spot was to be always beside me. When I worked or wrote he slept under the table, he hardly fit there as he was a very large dog, but to me, he was always my little puppy.

Whenever I checked upon him, he was fast asleep, dreaming. That afternoon I invited my father over, Ceasar adored him. Together we had a walk and dined outside, Ceasar accompanied us. It was our last walk, as that evening Ceasar died.

I remember making eye contact with him before leaving him at the vets to undergo an operation — he gave me a look that was a blend of confusion and fear. There was nothing I could do to reassure him.

Since the day I’ve lost him, I’ve lost myself as well. People who don’t have dogs might think mourning the loss of a dog is an overreaction — to me, my dog was never just “a dog”. He was our family member.

His death amplified how much he meant to all of us.

You see, Ceasar grew up with my parents, siblings and me. To me, he symbolized the time we were all together, a time before my mother died before my sisters moved out and became mothers before adulthood happened.

When he died, that era of my life died along with him.

Ceasar was officially my father’s dog, as I was underaged to legally own the dog. My father called him his “best friend” and they were best friends. Whenever I had to travel abroad because of work, when I went camping with my friends, when I moved cities — it was my father who took care of him, and similarly, Ceasar took care of my father, keeping him company.

To my sisters, the death of Ceasar reminded them that our mother is truly gone — you see, the two of them were inseparable back then. It was my mother who spoilt him the most, she used to cook him proper dinners — spaghetti with meatballs, lamb and rice, salmon and potato.

Ceasar was treated as king and a king he was, his given name was Oberon after King Oberon from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Nights.

When Ceasar died it became unbearable visible how much space he held in our lives and hearts.

People who tend not to want to have dogs are usually annoyed with fur that comes off the dog. They are annoyed when they find it covering furniture or their clothing.

When Ceasar died all that was left of him were the spaces filled with fur: on the new tiles which we had just fitted, under the table where he used to sleep, in the bathroom where he liked to accompany me as I put my makeup on, near the entrance door, where guarded the flat.

The fur is still splattered everywhere — but he is missing.

People also don’t like the dog odour especially when it pervades a home they have just walked into. I had the windows closed for the next two weeks desperately trying to preserve his smell within the space that he left behind.

Some are also annoyed when a dog trots up to them and invades their personal space.

There was no concept of personal space between him and me.

Because we loved each other that much that we were never to put space between us. He liked my company and I loved his. He followed me everywhere and I followed him.

I cannot stand the thought of walking past the empty spaces that are left. Every corner in our apartment has become a constant reminder of our companionship that is now gone. It’s painful to navigating the empty space, the days, weeks after the final moments.

His presence has played a massive role in my life and the space he has filled is massive, incomprehensible and un-fillable with any other being or thing. Losing him is one of the saddest experiences in my life.

I feel that our home has been lifted from its foundation and is adrift. A thought that had never occurred to me before, not for 12 years, that it was Ceasar who has held down our home by pressing himself onto the floor, dreaming. With him gone now, our home has begun to float into the emptiness with no solid ground in sight.

I bought a new dog— the same breed, related to Ceasar, with selfish hope to fill the empty space that has been left.

However, some spaces once emptied can’t be filled again.

I’ve realized that while we are alive we will always lose something: love, time, others, opportunities, and ourselves. The minute we’re born, we have one foot in the grave. And somehow we still march into the chaos, tears streaming down our cheeks, clinging onto those precious moments with our loved ones.

I was blessed to have had him in my life and I know that I will be alright because he is well looked after — at last, he is reunited with my mother.

Thank you for reading.