Soon. Someday.

Everytime I see someone walking a dog, I tell myself - "I'm going to get me one of those. Soon. Someday." And I hear a tiny voice inside me smirk - "Right! That'll be the day!".

Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to have a furry friend I can call my own. When I was a kid, my folks didn't want an 'animal' in the house (as if my sister and I didn't qualify...sigh!). I still remember the little pup that followed me home from school one day. I tried hard to lose it, but it wouldn't give up. There it was, standing outside the gates to my house, staring up at me with its pleading eyes...who wouldn't give in to those sad, droopy eyes...and those tiny, furry paws...and that cute little tail that wouldn't stop wagging? I begged my mom to let me keep it. Well, she wouldn't let me, of course, the poor little being was an 'animal' after all. Numerous pleas and long faces later, I was allowed to feed it! BUT, there were rules - It doesn't come in through the gate. It stays out. I carry the food out in a bowl that noone else uses, and feed it. And oh, I'm not allowed to touch it either.
My happiness knew no bounds. My first ever furry friend! I'd wait all day long to get back home from school. And as soon as I'd reach the front gates, there it'd be, waiting for me, its tail wagging unstoppably, like all it's been doing all day is sitting there in the hope that I'll show up. I'd rush indoors, grab its bowl, fill it up, and rush right back to the gate. I'd sit and watch the little guy (yes, I found out it was a guy. So let's call it 'him' from now on, okay?) lap up everything I fed him. And no, he'd not leave as soon as he finished; he'd stay...he'd sit there beside me, and together we'd watch the world go by us.
Months passed. He got bigger. He wanted more food. He'd still show up every evening, at the same time, his eyes as joyous to see me as the first time. Then one day, why, I still don't know, he wasn't there. I came back home from school, eager to see him, but he never did show up. I waited outside for hours, looked around the neighborhood, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he got into a bad fight. A real bad one. Or maybe he decided to move. To a different neighborhood. A different town, maybe? I'll never know.

When I started college, fortunately or not, I was still living with my folks. And no, despite years of living with my sister and I, they hadn't quite changed their mind about 'animals' :P. During this time, there were a couple of cats that frequented our house for food. I fell in love again. I'd look forward to their mealtimes. Look forward to making more furry friends. It was good while it lasted, but I'd gotten busier - life was no longer as carefree as it used to be. Besides, cats, by nature, are independent. And unattached. And one fine summer, my folks decided we were moving to a new house, and guess what, we forgot to give the cats our new address.

I decided that once I was living on my own, I was definitely, most certainly getting a pet. Well, it's been a year now, and I'm yet to muster the courage to take responsibility for a furry friend. Yes, I'm a little overwhelmed! It's a lot of work, like taking care of a little kid, and I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. I'm not giving up on the dream, though. I still frequent pet food aisles in supermarkets, in the hope that I'll pick up something from there someday. Maybe I'll start small. With a fish. A goldfish. Yeah. Not as furry maybe, but its a beginning, and its a friend. Hmmm.