Sometimes, Ayra does blog

My reading goals took an unexpected turn by the end of November. I used to snub the romantasy genre a lot, thinking it just (arguably) cheapens the fantasy genre as a whole. Lack of world building, too much focused on the romance part, this and that. The list goes on. But last month, I took a chance in reading about a handsome shadow wielding dragon riders and I’ve been hooked. And I haven’t stopped reading new books from the genre.

Yes Sarah J Maas will never be Brandon Sanderson level. Rebecca Yarros is a contemporary author and would never ever level with George R.R Martin or even Neil Gaiman. Holly Black will never be a Terry Pratchett. Fourth Wing will never win a Hugo award for best literary work. But you know what? I don’t care. I realized maybe the romantasy genre isn’t the problem but my personal prejudice to it. I’ve come to realize that maybe even if the literary romance tropes are used and abused in this genre, I DON”T CARE. They make me laugh and cry and root for the characters and they make me kick my feet up in the air. Something doesn’t have to be great in all aspects for me to enjoy what it has to offer.

I think it has more to do with how I think of myself especially recently when I entered my thirties. I finally got over what I think I SHOULD want vs what I actually want. That maybe I am that basic. That I don’t want or need to read complicated world buildings all the time but still want to escape into worlds where good looking high lord Faeries live, where morally gray men and shadow wielding dragon riders exists who will fall in love with you and burn the world for you. Where badass female lead characters are the center of the story and their relationship development with the people matters most and slaying the bad monsters is just a plus, and not the other way around. and maybe smut is good in normal dose! I’ve devoured more books than normal in less amount of time and with the year ending too! I’m spiraling into a Sarah J Maas multiverse that I don’t see myself stopping any time soon and I’m starting to collect physical books again because of my love for these characters after sticking with my kindle for YEARS.

It has been a week since Parker followed Polly in crossing the bridge. It has been a month that Parker was deteriorating right before my eyes due to kidney failure, a disease that is inevitable to dogs his age. So last Wednesday, I made a difficult decision with the professional advice from their very thoughtful and kind vet to give him the final act of kindness of putting him to sleep. It was a peaceful Wednesday. Each of us in the family were able to say our goodbyes before he completely closed his eyes. We told him he was the goodest boy in the world. That we would be okay. That it was okay to let go since he was in pain for more than weeks now. That night before, I hugged him tightly while he was having fits of seizures and whispered that it was okay to go because a few weeks prior to that, I kept telling him to fight and not leave me yet because losing Polly was too painful and I could not afford to lose him too. But seeing him fight amidst being in so much pain was a lot more intolerable, so I hugged him for I don’t know how long that night and told him it was okay to go.

I often teased him that he was Polly’s dog. That I initially got him because Polly needed a playmate. True enough, when Polly left, he followed suit. They were too close and were each other’s best friend that they went the same order they came into my life.

Parker was the poster dog of many hollywood dog films. He was good looking but he was a troublemaker, always up to no good. Naughty. A huge bouncing ball of trouble and sunshine combined. He was big and not the sharpest tool in the shed. But what he lacked in intellect, he compensated with his huge huge heart. So huge, we even took a moment to joke that his heart was so huge, it took some time for his heart to stop beating in his final moments. Unlike his sister Polly, he never learned a lot of tricks. He only sits when you bribe him with food and his sit can only last up to 5 seconds, else he’ll get impatient and maybe grab the food from your hands. His greatest talent though, is how he managed to open any type of doors. He can force himself in any type of doors, and that included the doors to our heart. I guess the last fondest memories I had with him was even if he was already having a difficult time walking he would look at me for help to climb up the stairs near one of our doors so he can still forcibly check if he can still open it. Now it warms my heart with the thought that he might have forcibly opened his way in the gates of heaven. That would be so typical of him.

But Parker didn’t need much. He didn’t need toys, or too much walks or tasty treats. What he loved the most was sitting on your lap and pretend he was a lap dog, not really aware how huge and heavy he was. He was the most malambing of the pack, aggressively asking for pets and love and won’t take no for an answer. He lets the other dogs bully him into submission even if he’s the largest in playfights.He’d prefer to chill all day and just stare at you with twinkling eyes, letting you know you’re his world.

It has been a very rough month for me. The morning right after, I bought a Jollibee meal and for the first time in x years, I broke down horribly because it’s the first time I ate my meal in peace. No one asking for a piece of my chicken, and no drool on my legs. This past month, some days were good, some days were better, and some days were bad. Mundane things make me cry, like a neglected dog bowl in the terrace, or a fur still stuck to my shoes. Parting ways with your pets is such a bittersweet experience. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have made peace that we were able to say goodbye, that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s probably playing with Polly wherever they are.

I’ve been trying to compose this for a week as well and it seems I cant finish it because finishing it gives it finality when all I feel like this is all a temporary thing… that they’re just on a short trip to the vet or a board house for some time because I’m traveling. But having a good support system helps a lot cope and adjust. I still don’t regret anything. But I do miss both of them a lot.

Dogs are the weirdest creatures. Of all the heartbreaks I’ve encountered in my life, this one was the most painful, and yet this is the only one where I deliberately dove in. Despite knowing it will end in heartbreak, in anguish, I consciously chose this life with her. And I never ever regretted it. It was amazing.

Polly was an amazing dog. Despite contracting Erlichia at age 2, she constantly fought it. She was even diagnosed to last no more than a few months in 2019 and yet she lived another 4 years. And in those 10 short years with her, I learned to constantly fully live in the moment with her, never failing to share her joy, delighting in her innocence in the littlemost things. She taught me lessons about forgiving fully and loving without limits. In those remaining years, I learned to prepare myself for the inevitable but then again, here I am now. I thought I was prepared, but you’ll never be. In spite of everything I did, I can never support the illusion that she would always be here for me in this lifetime, even whispering a silent prayer at night asking to give me more time with her, whatever it takes, I’ll do it.

But I think it’s warm and sad and wonderful and painful and beautiful at the same time. There’s such beauty in that hard honesty that dogs’ lives are so short… in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price.