It's been over seven months since I got the news that my dog James had died. James came into my life at only a few days old, he was the size of my palm, blind, deaf and helpless, the sole survivor of a litter of puppies which had been buried alive by their mother.
That first night we got him we were clueless, I was sure that he wouldn't make it but we kept him warm, we made him feed and each day he got stronger. I took him everywhere with me in a little blue basket, I would sit in the middle of busy Bangkok shopping malls and bottle feed him and eventually he got so strong that he would yelp and scramble out of the basket to tell me it's feeding time. His first poop was so dramatic, he screamed, it was almost as big as he was! He was nearly two months old when I had to leave him but he had survived.
When I returned to Thailand the next year I was almost positive he wouldn't remember me but after a couple of wary sniffs he jumped on me, licked me to death and never left my side, his mummy was home. It seems strange to call him my dog when I only spent a couple months a year with him but we had a very close bond, I nursed him, I trained him, I loved him I always will.
Dogs are such amazing creatures they come into your life and they're so full of life and love you can't help but want to share your whole world with them. Pets really do enrich our lives. My life was so different before James came into it, he taught me so much about myself and although he was only in my life for 6 years the memories and happiness he gave to me will remain with me for a lifetime.