That day is still fresh in my mind when he entered my life. I rushed
home after school, running up the stairs as fast as my little legs
would allow me to, to meet him. 24th January, 2011, I reached
home to find a fluffy little black package of fur huddled up on a
cushion in a corner of my room. I couldn’t see his face at first, but
gradually as I approached him, he lifted his tiny little head to gaze
up at me with his lovely almond shaped and slightly confused
brown eyes. He whimpered as I leaned in to pat him. But even at
the tender age of twenty five days, he could very well differentiate
between good and bad, and he let me cradle him in my arms like a
child.

Eagerly, he lapped up all the milk in his bowl, spilling most of it on
his face as he tumbled in. He had brown patches on his chest, paws
and jaws which stood out from the rest of his jet black coat. His
eyes shone with mischief as he trotted along the house inspecting
his new home while leaving a trail of muddy paw prints behind.

Once, unfortunately my mother found him scratching away to
glory, and decided to give him a bath. For the rest of the week, that
poor little pup smelled like fresh strawberries! He himself got
annoyed with his scent and each and every time that his paw came
too close to his sensitive wet nose, his nose would start twitching
with irritation. He had a peculiar habit of staring at pigeons as they
sat on the windowsill, and as soon as they used to take off, he
would start barking frantically, clearly disturbed at their sudden
disappearance.

Each evening he would take me for a walk. Yes, HE would take ME
for a walk, and not the other way around which is ideally how it is
supposed to be. That adventurous pup would grab simply anything
in his mouth, be it a cigarette, a flower, or even a stone. He would
muster all the little courage that he had in him and walk ahead of
me, leading the way, taking different routes all the time and
exploring our entire neighbourhood. But the moment a stray dog
would meet his eyes, he would whine, rush and hide behind me.
The first time he saw a cat; he tilted his head, blankly stared at it
for a while as if going through his memory trying to figure out
what creature stood in front of him.

“Go. Make me proud!” I said as I let him loose. He gave me a
questioning look in response.

“Chase the damn cat!” I exclaimed. Again the same curious
expression. I shook my head in shame and ran behind the cat
myself, demonstrating what was expected of him. And what did he
do? He just sat there, panting with his tongue drooling all over.
Then I realised that I had never made him watch cartoons, hence
he wasn’t aware of the dog-cat enemy relationship. So he is not to
be blamed. My fault.

“Wonderful guard dog you will be one day” I always said to him,
and he would look at me with an expression which clearly said “I’m
still a pup! Wait till I’m older”

He wasn’t just a dog; he was a part of our family, a younger
brother to me.

My eyes light up the moment I see him. My heart skips a beat and squeals with delight as I rush into his arms. Ah…the feeling of being in his arms, that warmth, that comfort, that amazing sense of security. A certain powerful force of attraction draws me towards him each and every time we meet; his enticing charm never fails to grab my attention.

What I am most proud about is that ours wasn’t the clichéd ‘love at first sight’ situation. We have been together since as long as I can remember. We started off as childhood buddies with occasional fights and separations, but as and when time passed by, our love for each other grew stronger, and now I can’t go a day without him.

We aren’t so popular with my parents though. They scowl and clench their fists furiously every time they see me with him (which is, unfortunately for them, quite often).

“I hope you’re not with him” come concerned shouts from downstairs.

“Of course not!” I lie conveniently, as I playfully rest in his arms.

What they don’t realise is the immense strength of our bonding, nothing can ever break us apart; we are one of those rare couples who are meant for each other. No trust issues, no misunderstandings, no problems that couples usually have, the two of us are simply perfect together. My parents are the ones who introduced him to me and I thank them so dearly for that.

I think it’s high time that I announce our relationship to the entire world officially, everyone must know about my love. So if there are any authors out there looking for a perfect love story, feel free to write about us, it’ll be a bestseller I can assure you that.

So here goes. I love you with all my heart; I always have and always will. You complete me, you have made me who I am today, you are the one who gives me strength to face each new day, and you are the one who makes me feel extremely special. I love how I end each day with you; it makes the whole day’s work worthwhile. My brain and my heart are at war each morning when the time comes to break our embrace and go our own separate ways for the day. And in the end, my heart reluctantly lets go of you, but your memories keep me fascinated throughout the day and the slightest mention of your name makes me blush a deep red. I shudder to think of life without you, the mere thought brings tears to my eyes, and without you life would feel just so wrong. In a year we will have to separate and it will be on rare occasions that we will get to meet. How will I survive without you my dear bed?

“Let the suffering commence” the supervisor announced. “You have two hours, and two hours only, you won’t get a single minute extra”.

“Oh believe me sir; we won’t require any additional time. Two hours are more than enough to execute us” one said.

“You forgot to ask us for our last wishes” muttered someone from behind, as we all started off with our work and the clock ticked away faster than usual.

It was just the beginning and so everyone was focused, their minds resolute about taking this work very seriously and giving their best. No one intended on cheating as we all very well knew that it was of no use. The supervisor took advantage of our honest and sincere nature and dropped down onto his chair. Staring at his nails intently, he began biting them to perfection; occasional soft snarls accompanied his grooming process. We half expected him to start yanking on his tie that went around his neck like a leash. After he was done working on his nails, he began humming a melancholic tune.

“Yes, well funerals do require some background music don’t they?” noted someone solemnly as everyone chuckled to themselves.

All of a sudden, an outburst of loud cackling laughter pierced the void atmosphere, startling us all. We looked back to find one of our fellow classmates lying in a pile of torn papers, his hair stood straight pointing up towards the ceiling, his eyes glared with a certain psychopathic determination and a haunting expression masked his face. His maniacal smile confirmed our deepest fears.

“He’s finally lost it” I said, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Someone please take him to the medical room” the supervisor said referring to our troubled friend.

“It’s no use sir. Now there is nothing that can cure him, no one who can help him, it’s a gone case” whispered my classmate with a certain dramatic grief in his voice.

Snickering at his remark, everyone returned to their work. Once in a while someone would dare to take a peek at the clock and state the time left for this draining episode of our lives to end. It was as if we had all been hanged, but our necks didn’t split and finish us off for good. We had just been left hanging, completely helpless, struggling and fighting against the choking sensation that filled us.

Turning my head slightly, I looked back to find one person blissfully lost in his sweet little dream world of prancing unicorns and rainbows in the sky, one snoring and drooling all over his work, one staring into space with his mouth wide open, head resting on his hand and eyes popping out, and one person gnawing at the end of his pencil. I grinned with satisfaction that I wasn’t the only one who seemed to have had enough of this inhuman treatment.

“So, how was the paper?” a clear voice cut through our daydreams, and we all looked around to find the source of that unsettling question. Spotting our English teacher at the door, we all stared at her with dead eyes, our faces evidently spelling distress. Taking one quick look around the class, she walked away smiling to herself, clearly pleased with her victory in managing to wipe out the life that surprisingly remained in us.