Sunday, December 30, 2007
Bought a new jacket
heehee, funny thing to say.. was a Gurung Loshar.. lots of good chicks.. bought a new jacket and a pair of shoes.. winter is here.. watched my stupid brother buy shoes.. funny experience for a man who thinks he knows all..
Monday, December 24, 2007
My Christmas Present: Dead Dog
Two days ago, in my eighteenth birthday, my dog died.
You must be thinking what an understatement to mark the birthday but my dog was anything but understatement. Tashi was a Tibetan Mastiff, 11 months old and I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. When we brought him home, he was just 21 days old. I still remember how he licked my hand first before licking the milk in the plate. It was the first thing that I could say was truly mine. From its first bath to its first bark, I was with my dog. “Don’t worry, we will get you another dog,” said my father in a matter-of-fact way. He had never liked it anyway. Tashi was never trained and was wild in his ways. He would grumble and always found a way to complain. We would regularly find him near a trash can or drinking mud water. He was never my father’s favorite. But for me Tashi was not just any dog. He was a brother. I never had any brothers and sisters. My neighborhood has no guys of my age. My parents would leave early in the morning for work and returned late from work. I had no money to spend with my rich friends so I would seldom leave home. That left me alone in the home and playing computer games and watching TV nothing good for the soul. I only one I could talk to was my dog. My dog and me played, fought on food, talked about parents and teachers at school, and did every thing that brothers would do. He was my companion and a friend. Someone once said that wise men are those who listen what you have to say and don’t give opinions. If my dog were a man he would have been called wise man.
I loved my dog. Despite all his arrogance and stubbornness, he was a true brother. He was never just another dog. My father would never understand that.
You must be thinking what an understatement to mark the birthday but my dog was anything but understatement. Tashi was a Tibetan Mastiff, 11 months old and I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. When we brought him home, he was just 21 days old. I still remember how he licked my hand first before licking the milk in the plate. It was the first thing that I could say was truly mine. From its first bath to its first bark, I was with my dog. “Don’t worry, we will get you another dog,” said my father in a matter-of-fact way. He had never liked it anyway. Tashi was never trained and was wild in his ways. He would grumble and always found a way to complain. We would regularly find him near a trash can or drinking mud water. He was never my father’s favorite. But for me Tashi was not just any dog. He was a brother. I never had any brothers and sisters. My neighborhood has no guys of my age. My parents would leave early in the morning for work and returned late from work. I had no money to spend with my rich friends so I would seldom leave home. That left me alone in the home and playing computer games and watching TV nothing good for the soul. I only one I could talk to was my dog. My dog and me played, fought on food, talked about parents and teachers at school, and did every thing that brothers would do. He was my companion and a friend. Someone once said that wise men are those who listen what you have to say and don’t give opinions. If my dog were a man he would have been called wise man.
I loved my dog. Despite all his arrogance and stubbornness, he was a true brother. He was never just another dog. My father would never understand that.
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