Letter to Sumi


Dear Eugene,

This letter is not really for you but for you to pass it on.  If one day you happen to meet my dog Sumi in heaven, something I consider highly likely and probably within a matter of five years, I hope you will speak to her in a language she can understand, which I trust is a gift you're blessed with in heaven much like how you were on earth.

Sumi again wasn't eating since this morning, and not drinking much either.  This has been happening more frequently since last fall.  So I took her for a longer walk after work, and subsequently she ate part of her dinner but not until I soaked the kibbles in water.  Now she is resting, with only me at home.  And I found myself mumbling to her and thought maybe I should write down my gibberish.

So here it goes:

My Dearest Sumi,

 You know I don't think I know you at all.  Never did, never will.  When I first toilet-trained you I thought it was pure luck.  For all I know you could change your mind and decide to shit all over the place again.  I've never gotten your word that you are totally done with your wicked way.  I was only guessing.

 You see that's the point I really want to make: I am always in the dark, always guessing.  To say I am the one in this household who knows you the most is to say I am the best guesser, that's all.  I walked you and probably played with you more than anyone else and I guess that's why you let me guess right--sometimes.  Most of the time.  Certainly not always.

 Like now, you are not letting me get across at all.  I led to the meadow grass like I am a shepherd and you chewed up a few perfunctory stalks but that's it.  What used to be the solution to your stomach upset is no longer a good solution.  You let me play dentist and poke around your mouth and I think your teeth and gum are perfectly fine.  No pain was expressed when I massaged you all over twice over.

 So what's happening to you?  Please throw me a bone.

 I hope you would let me in.  I hope this is not how you are going to be from now on.  If this is your way to help me shut up and just be there for the other, I am not going to protest but shall probably always resist.  What I mumbled to you an hour ago was much more profound than what I am writing down now.  My worry ate my words--No, YOU ate my words and see what bad eating is doing to you!

 But this is what I have decided too just now: if finally you are going to die in my arms without giving me a good reason why or what I can do, I will just offer you my arms and bury you with my tears.  If it takes you three days to say goodbye then I will hold you for three days and all through the nights too.  I will hold you until it is not a good idea to hold you anymore.  I shall clean my pants of your hair for the last time, only to find there will always be one more hair to clean long after your goodbye, maybe somewhere at the far corner of my closet drawer, or at the seam of an old sweater I haven't worn for years.

 My guess is you are going to haunt me and delight in your haunting wicked way.  Well, you will hear from me one day, you devil of a beast.

 Yours, Alex

There you go, Eugene.  Please pass this on.  Thank you.  She barks a lot but she doesn't bite.

Yours, Alex

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