In Memory of Foxer

Looking back, I still think of my granny's dog. It's called Foxer and I like to think of it as a him.


Foxer's pretty responsible. Anyone that comes to the gate at my grandma's place, he'll rush out to bark his head off. When that someone puts a hand on the gate latch, he feels it has done his duty, and heads back to his usual place under this really big table in the front yard.



Foxer is generous. Unless we chase away the neighbourhood cats from his dinner, he'll lie under his table and wait for them to eat their fill before sauntering out to eat whatever's left. After a few years of chasing off those persistent cats, we just put 4 portions of food in the bowl.



Foxer is tolerant, he'd bear with all of us kids mucking about with him despite warnings from our parents about how dirty he is. I believe that half the dirt on him was contributed by us.



Foxer helped with our education. We used to pull the ticks and fleas off his skin, spray them individually with repellent to see if they die. They don't. We always wondered if they get shunned by the rest of their gang because of the BO.

Foxer was really old when my grandma moved and the new place didn't have a garden and didn't allowed big dogs. I heard he was put down, but I guess I was a little too young to fully understand what was going on.

When I drove past my grandma's old place today, the rambutan, mango and starfruit trees are not there anymore. The big plot of land is now seperated into 2 huge semi-Ds. Well, time may have past, but the memories remain.

I don't miss Foxer. I don't miss my childhood days. But they still are precious jewels in my memory that I take out sometimes to polish and smile over.

Take it easy, Foxer.