In Memory of Layla, A Delicate Soul

As soon as I came home from work last night, I heard a scream from one of the dogs. Not since Candy died five years had I heard such a scream.It was not from my bedroom where my dwindling few choose to make their home but rather my mom's old bedroom. There, an orangeish blonde peke with a mane like a lion made her home. Her name was Layla and she was the most solitary dog that I had ever known. She came into my life five years ago, was so afraid of the other dogs that she instantly fled into my mom's bedroom and never came out until they were all put away. When I came into that room, she fled from me, too, and shunned most attempts at affection. "Some dogs just don't need people," I was told and that was news to me, believing that we needed them as much as they need us. She was the shyest dog that I had ever known, always ate well and was never sick. In fact, until she screamed that night, I never knew that anything was wrong with her at all. For five years, I took care of her and yet, sadly, I don't think that we ever really bonded, and I did my best, couldn't help but to think that she would have done better with someone else, not me. The realization came on me a few months ago that she is missing her whole life by not participating in it, by being shy and afraid. Still, hers was a kind and gentle presence and I was happy to give her a home.

Layla, my dear, shy as you were, I shall miss you, and maybe in the next world, we'll see one another and get a second chance to do it right. The house is the poorer for you no longer being in it.