Ange.

(Picture from the Internet)

Ange. She was the very first best friend I had. Pretty much the same age as me, though of course she was still a kid at heart and would also want to roll around and play hide and seek.

Most people would not understand the ties that bound me to her; of course, there are few who can comprehend how an almost rougish  German Shepherd and a four year old can get along like two peas in a pod. 

My memories of growing up all include her in it; I can still recollect vividly how every Diwali, she would be as terrified of the crackers as I was, and would leap inside the window, smashing the glass much to the chagrin of my mother. As she grew in size, she could no longer be trusted to remain indoors for she threatened my mother's precious flower arrangements and vases. She therefore would resort to patrolling the territories of the house, ensuring that no stranger or cat would ever trespass the vicinity of the place. 

Contrary to her name, Ange was a terror to the neighbourhood. People shuddered while telling the tales of her vicious attitude; and yet when around me, she remained a fluffball, always looking for something fun to do. If I decided to cycle, there was Ange to trot alongside; when I decided to read, there was Ange taking advantage of every opportunity to sneak into the house and lie alongside. 

At times, I could even swear she understood me; I would rant to her, tell her about things I would not tell any human being; and she would listen intently, cocking her head to her side, her big satellite like ears spiking up to attention. 

To an only child, who had very few friends, Ange was exactly what her name suggested- an Angel. 

I can still remember the day my mother came home and told me Ange was no more. Devastated, Lonely.. there are no words to describe the loss that I felt. Ange was after all my childhood, my first ever best friend. 

Even now as I look at that one picture I have of her, I am taken back to the good old days when Ange and I, like the kids we were, felt invincible. 

I can only pray that she is happy out there, burying as many towels in the lawn as she likes, tormenting the mice who dare to pass her, and just being free. I hope up there, there are no crackers bursting, for Ange hated that. 

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