Schwarz

August 28th, 1998 is the day I understood what a "snapshot memory" means: the time when a camera-like flashbulb goes off in your head and that moment is forever engraved into your memory. I suppos it's how Americans remember where they were and what they were doing when JFK died, and later for the rest of the world, we will always remember what we were doing when we saw on unfolding TV news the images of planes ramming into towers on Sept 11th, 2001.

Eight years on, and I still remember everything about that morning: the clothes I was wearing, the Tshirt that Schwarz snuggled up against when I held him against me when the vet did what he had to do. I still remember the spot in the garden where he last lifted his leg before that last car ride to the vet. He didn't have to but he wanted to pee before a car ride like he always did, he was always such a good boy.

I didn't have all these flashbulb moments down to the last detail with Spock. Maybe with him, I didn't know that was going to be his last day on earth.

A few months after Schwarz died, I could finally see enough through tears to print out all the e-mail messages of condolence that I received from several dog e-lists I was then on. Many people wrote of the courage it took to make the difficult decision to put an old dog to sleep. I never thought of it as courageous, neither did I think of it as difficult -- it was something I knew I had to do for a long time. The only question was when. And that, in the end, came easily. It was the morning you found your old dog huddled up and shivering, no longer able to eat or to move more than a few steps. That really wasn't difficult, you just did what you long knew you had to do. What nobody ever tells you is that real difficult part is the part that comes after that. I was lucky I had Spock then -- the Emergency Backup Dog as I used to call him suddenly became the only dog. So I wasn't dogless. But it was still very, very hard.

Schwarz was my first real dog although not technically my first dog. I had a mongrel called Blackie when I was very, very young, about five years old. But I hardly remember him now, it was my mother who took care of Blackie. Schwarz was L's dog -- he still tells of how when he was invited to pick a pug puppy (the breeder was his friend's mother), all the little puggies ran to him when he entered the room. Only one remained where he was, his nap was more important. And that's when L picked the one who had his own independent agenda.

Schwarz lived with L's aunt for a few years when he worked in Hong Kong. When we both returned to Singapore, L arranged one evening with LTL to spend an evening out with me while he took her car, went and got Schwarz, and took him home. When I got home that night, I opened the door to him snuffling and snorting. The next day, he became my shadow and my dog.

He had precious little belongings -- he arrived with just his collar and leash and two bowls, one for food and another for water. When I think of HRH's legion of toys now , I shake my head. But Schwarz left me many things. My email handle and the name of this blog is part of his legacy. The many friends I've met online, some of whom have gone on to become as close as family, I've met through him.

Eight years on, he is still enriching my life with his blessing.

He was a solemn, undemanding, quiet little one-lap dog. I'm glad Spock is with him.