Death and Luan

Wise eyes, ironically tired, he knew his whole history, the end of a long chain that began with the first being, he knew that life does not make sense without death. The suffering, painful pass by, a spark on time, the link between being and everything.

I keep softness and kindness, wouldn't let the bitterness come in. Facing death, breaking apart and deceptions all poison our blood, tight our muscles; atrophy our thoughts, narrowing our possibilities. Definitely not because different ways don't exist, they are blocked though, were destroyed by the lack of comprehension, self-knowledge and love.

Ten days have passed without talk, no more tries, no more challenges. Movements just the ones strictly needed; when not even those, the intention. Skinny body, now curved as an arc, as if to die we may turn into a new life fetus.

Friend, confident, a bit too much worried about the loved ones - innate eminent felling of abandonment. Routine enjoyable, morning walk, door noises and other funny noises, days and nights.

Luan of the rainfalls and campings, always keeper, always loyal. A time rip, a mattress made with tiny peaces of cloth (don't know an English name for it), my remembrances right now. Running behind our car, afraid to be left, doing some exercises, completely dusty! Swimming in rivers, so many rivers, many trials and forests, sleeping in tents, with me outside. Luan in the morning after a tough night without tent on the top of a mountain running to get our orange leftovers, sufficient to remember us to feed him! Luan coming back home from the infamous "dog mountain" which no dog come back from, he was not a dog. At Ouro Preto's university parties, apart for not being the most enjoyable places for a dog, he was always there sniffing around trying, with all his charm, get a snack of barbecue from the students, girls of course. Or tired yet upheld by some who already knew him. His bed was not one but three, three pairs of foot, helping keep them warm. When in the bulkbed a jump over the lower one for a morning pis was always welcome.

Everything surrounded by his frenetic barking, excitement for the least tiny walk or play possibility. We had for ourselves that when he stopped barking, wouldn't have much time left, an opportunity for those who wants to say goodbye.

From now on the felling is good. In fact I couldn't see Luan in his last minutes, not even his bury, the flowers and the promise to plant a fruit tree. Couldn't see he trying to stand, the silence and fasting. Couldn't smell his vomits, didn't cook dog food with vegetables to make him stronger, didn't feed him, didn't make corn hair tea - an attempt to lower urea levels, not also felt the disgusting smelling from his mouth. Didn't take him to the vet, haven't seen Pita giving her young and fresh blood and his, even slight, happiness, didn't see he trying to piss outside but falling down before he got finished, didn't see he felling pain and not also any time he fainted.

Didn't see any tear from so many dropped, but let myself drop some, though. Didn't see him offering his body to the vet, the question: "why're you doing that, Luan?", for the tranquilizer, didn't hold his paw.

Didn't see any of those things but hear from who, sisters and mum, that did it. Good dog.