Julie

Travelling on the train and reading an article on nautilus reminded me of Julie. The memories came flooding back - just as the yellow liquid covered the floor when she breathed her last.

I was lying on sofa trying to get some rest, exhausted and emotionally drained. That's when mother called out loud for me. The tone of her voice told me that it was time.

It had been hard to watch Julie as she limped around in pain. The cancer had gone from her uterus to other parts of her body. In her final days it was difficult for her to pass urine or even just walk around. Blood dripped down as she mustered up the strength to get up and walk. The red stains on the floor, a reminder of strength slowly draining from her body.

I'd spent the night holding her, petting her, hugging her ; hoping to comfort her as she let our low guttural cries for help. She fought the pain bravely. Julie was almost human to me and she stayed that way with all her pain even in the end. She refused to dirty the room where she slept. She stayed strong. And when she breathed her last, I saw the light from her eyes fade away slowly into oblivion. It was hard to believe that my companion, my partner-in-crime of 12 years was gone. I couldn't even reconcile with the scene of watching her go - imagining a life without her was unthinkable.

My parents and I hugged each other, unable to stop our tears. We bawled, together, holding on to the last few moments we had with her. The past 12 years with her had been transformative.

Caesar came down running and he knew something was wrong. He whimpered back to his room as my parents and I picked up her limp body. We cleaned the blood and liquids drained from her body and wrapped her up in sheets. Just like that, she was gone. She was here with us, but she was gone. How did this happen so suddenly?

My dad took the car out and we carried her body to the back seat. I sat behind with Julie's body as we drove to the crematorium. I held on to her, unable to truly believe that she was gone - the only reminder being the image of her last breath.

Over the next couple of hours we burned her body and headed back home. I sat under a tree on a bench with my mother as they placed my Julie on a pyre. A man placed pieces of wood on her limp body until I could only see parts of her tail. I held my mother tight as they set her on fire. This was real. My Julie was gone.