goodbye, buster

This morning, I received news from home that Buster passed away. He would have turned six on August 6, 2020.

I was in Bohol over the weekend, and just a few hours before heading to the pier to return to Dumaguete, I noticed him lying in his bed, unwell. He was the shy type, but this time he was just suddenly too quiet, too still. Sat next to him and repeated his name, and he would slowly lift his head, answer me with a soft, feeble sound. Long, slow blinks and all. Offered him water, but he only lowered his head toward the bowl and never drank, as if still trying to be the obedient boy he always was. Then, very slowly, he walked away, turned his back to me, and faced the garden, as though telling me to not see him like that.

Before I left Bohol, I asked my sisters to take him to the vet. Arrived in Dumaguete last Tuesday night uneasy and heavy with worry. Kept asking for updates the following day. His vitals did not improve. Today, February 19, he is gone.

Now, who will I sing my Bebe Buster song to? When will I ever hear my mother say, “Bus-ter-teeeer!” with that unmistakable delight whenever you gently wandered into the room? Who will my sister look for as you playfully hid under the dining table? Where will we see those ice-blue galaxies in your eyes again?

Dear Buster, my last image of you is that afternoon before I left—your back turned, weak and in pain. But today, I choose to remember you differently: resting on a pile of leaves in the garden, your favorite, facing the early morning sun, just as I would always find you whenever I came home, with the light catching your fur, turning it the brightest of whites, glowing, as if our days were blessed by your presence.

Buster, we will miss you so much. 💟

[ more photos here ]