A Tribute To A Brown-Eyed Girl
What Groovy taught me what we all already knew the last 17 years
You were born on the streets of an tiny equatorial island at 1”North.
No one knew your parents or siblings. No one knew your breed type.
With a shiny coat of milk-chocolate brown, a distinctive white hair on your back, a beautiful black-brown snout and a black tongue, you are indeed one of a kind for a mongrel. Even your eyes were mesmerizing.
Our family suspected you have some Chow-chow in you, because of your black tongue. How rare that is. Perhaps part of your ancestral line is from the Far East of Middle Kingdom (reads: China, where my family’s roots are from too).
You came to us by divine chance. At a time, when we least expected.
None of us wanted to keep you, not because we hated dogs but because we felt animals are meant to roam free in the wild. We also knew how heartbroken we would be when we have to let you when the time for you to transcend to the doggie heaven is up. Besides, the local authorities had a ruling against large-sized dogs like you in our 1290 sqft. apartment.
We found you when you narrowly escaped an accident unharmed, perhaps except with some lingering emotional trauma. The kindhearted motorcyclist was…
