Jin-young tightens the arms around his legs as he rests his chin on his knees. The tears won’t stop, no matter how long he’s been crying.

“Thanks for coming, Nim,” he murmurs, eyes focusing on the scene before him. “I know there’s no use in calling you. Nothing can help her.” He buries his face in his arms. “But, I…” He stops mid-sentence, silence befalling him as he listens to his old gal’s deep, heavy breaths. He hears a few wheezes every now and then. He feels a weight on his head as Nim starts caressing his hair, petting him softly and offering all the comfort that she can. 

“Silly boy,” she coos at him, “You’re never a burden. I’m here for the both of you.” 

She looks at Jin-young’s old gal, examining her limp body as she lies there, paralyzed. She was already skin and bones, unable to consume anything else, even water. In spite of her inability to lift herself up, she was still clawing at the floor. She whimpers, and lets out a painful, long howl. Jin-young sheds even more tears, and covers his ears. 

Nim sauntered forward, bending down to give the old gal a comforting on the head. The skin around her skull had also thinned. Nim could see her reflection in the old gal’s eyes, which had turned silver when she became half-blind a year ago. “It’s okay to rest now, old gal,” she whispers, placing her foreheard against the old gal’s neck. Nim feels tears pricking at her eyes. “Jin-young wants you to rest. I know—he knows you still want to fight. Your resolve is still as strong as the day I met you. But it’s time to rest now, old gal.” Nim feels her heart wrenching and squeezing. Despite everything she learned at school, in spite of all the medical knowledge she can possibly possess, there was nothing she could do but to accept things as they were. 

There was nothing she could do against Time. 

The old gal’s breathing turns heavier, shallower, deeper. In a matter of seconds, Jin-young is right beside Nim, clasping the hem of her shirt as his other hand comfortingly the old gal’s back. His tears fall down onto her white fur as he silently cries, whispering, “It’s time to rest, old gal.” His old gal weakly turns her head into their direction, looking up at them in spite of her blurred vision. For the first time in a year, Jin-young sees vivid color in her eyes. 

Flashes of color, and of the times he was happiest, of the times she was the strongest, jumping and running about. Barking, howling, eating. Playing, swimming. 

Living. 

Colors of each and every memory of the past fourteen years. 

She lets out one last whimper, one last breath, as she drops her head. 

Her eyes were no longer silver. 

“Rest easy, old gal.”

Fourteen years was a very long time. 

—

It’s around 5 am when Nim arrives at home. After the old gal’s death, she decided to stay a bit longer and offer Jin-young a shoulder to cry on. 

“Thanks,” he gratefully tells her. His eyes were puffy and red from all the tears, his body physically drained to exhaustion. 

Nim smiles, gently pinching his cheek. “You idiot. You don’t need to say that. I’ll always be here. I’m just a call away, remember?” she assures him. She’s no different, though. Her eyes still stung. But for Jin-young’s sake, she had to muster up a smile. 

At her words, Jin-young’s weak smile falters once more, and before she knew what was happening, Jin-young had wrapped his arms around her again, burying his face onto the crook of her neck as she feels his hot tears.

“Thanks, Nim.”  He tightens his hug. “Thanks.” 

“I’m—“ 

A small smile makes it way to her lips. 

“Silly old boy,” she hums, reaching out to brush the stray strands of brown locks away from his face. She takes a good look at her old boy as he stirs in his sleep, eyebrows furrowed, and a tired but satisfied smile on his face. His dewy, clear porcelain skin was as beautiful as the day she met him. She quietly laughs.

Probably dreaming of me. 

“Lay, wake up,” she cooes, gently circles on his cheeks. 

Slowly, her old boy’s eyes open, revealing his soft, honey brown irises. He reaches for her face as his own begins to flush pink. “Welcome home, Nim,” he whispers, half-asleep. Nim quietly laughs again. He was still dreaming. 

“Silly old boy,” she tells him, “What are you still doing outta here? You should be in bed.” Despite her words, Nim gives him a tight, warm hug. His slow, steady breaths tickle her. 

“I’m here to welcome you home,” he says a matter-of-factly, “You’ve been crying, haven't you?” 

Nim blinks. “Silly old boy,” she says again, “You know me too well.” 

No words were exchanged between them as they sat there, arms around each other in a comforting silence. It’s a few minutes later when Lay speaks up, “Nim. You know it, don’t you? My time is almost up.” 

Nim’s lips purse into a thin line. What was he saying? Ah, well, she knew it was the truth. But saying it so openly, so bluntly at a time like this. 

That's foul, Lay.

 “I know, Lay. I know.”

But of course, she knew. Just as Lay knew her down to the last details of her life, she knew his. 

“When my time comes, don’t cry, okay, Nim?” he begs her, caressing her back. 

Nim doesn’t say anything in return.

She doesn’t want to make a promise she can’t keep.

Hello, everyone! It's been an awfully long time. I no longer write these days, but my old gal recently died. That was the most painful three days of my life. Her death was exactly how it's described here. My old gal had the strongest fighting spirit, her mind was still strong and awake, but her body could no longer take it. Physically, she had already started showing signs of weakness around two years ago. We couldn't even walk her anymore because of her weak joints. But, oh, how she wanted to run and still play about. 

A few days ago,  she could no longer stand up nor take in anything. She was fighting for her life, but we already knew. Even though I wanted to bring her to the vet, I knew it within me that her time's already come. It was just so hard seeing how she was still mentally strong, but the limitations of her body were something that only death could release.

Fourteen years was indeed a long time. 

Dedicated to G, 2002-2017.