rox

Rox was 2 months old when she found her way to our home by sleeping on my dad’s shoes. Mom wasn’t happy about it but she was the one who cooked food exclusively for Rox and sewed her handmade clothes.

At 3 months, she knew her first trick - “sit”. At 6 months old, she knew how to stand, jump hoops, lay down, play dead, and roll over. She’s always been so smart that she even potty trained herself.

She was 3 when I started my first job and couldn’t spend as much time with her, but mom made sure she still went on her daily walks to the bakery and buy pandesal.

When she turned 5, she became my sister’s companion at home. We spent most of our time at the hospital and was comforted that Rox was there to watch over the house.

She was 6 when she adjusted her sleep schedule with mine. Mom had just died and I barely slept. I worked from home then, and only had her company while I dealt with my grief.

As a senior dog at 10, her senses were still razor sharp. When the one I used to refer to as “Rox’s dad” stopped coming around, she learned to knock incessantly in the bathroom door whenever I would start quietly crying in the shower.

She was 11 when she willingly went on a mental health walk with me that lasted for a few hours after I found out I was losing my job during the pandemic. I went back home with a clear head, and a tired dog who wagged her tail the entire time.

I almost died in a hospital abroad when she was 13. The thought that made me start crying in the emergency room was that if I die, she would have to wonder why I never came back.

Rox was not just a dog. She was our dog, a huge part of our family.

She was almost 14 when she passed. I will never fall asleep to her snoring or be welcomed back home by her excited pitter patters ever again. With her gone, life will never be the same.

Thank you for giving us your best years, Rox. You will forever be missed.

‘rox’ is for the sad girls and their chosen fur family ✨

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