Four years ago, my family and I were taking a walk on one of the most pet-populated streets in my home town.
As we visited each shop, each and every one of those puppies were just staring out of the glass panes with, literally, those puppy eyes, that I couldn't resist just taking a closer look.
I plopped my nose against the display, and they started wagging their tails at increasing intervals.
My eyes lit up before the display of these adorable puppies, as I thought, 'if only I can get my hands on one of them...
', staring longingly in the display area.
My mom had to drag me away from the shop, take a short break, before visiting the next store.
But my interest hasn't diminished.
Store after store that we entered, I was both fascinated and enamored with the aura of overwhelming cuteness hovering in the air.
Some hyperactive pups were jumping up and down, using their snouts to roll a ball around; some were yanking on those chew toys that help clean their teeth; some were cuddled together in small clusters, peacefully snoring away.
Long story short, at some point, resistance became futile.
I was so tempted to bring home one of these endearing angels, that the usually introverted me spoke up and asked my mom whether I could get one of the Golden Retriever pups from the cage.
Surprise flitted over her face for a second, an expression which turned into solemnness instantly afterwards.
'Are you sure? You'll be the one looking after him.
That's your responsibility, not mine.
' She paused, then added, 'bringing up a pet is almost like bring up your own child.
The amount of work you'll face is huge.
Not only that, as a child, he'll need love.
And you'll have to pour every single iota of your care and energy into raising him.
Do you still want him?' I contemplated a bit, before deciding.
Then, I took a deep breath, and said the one word that would change the destiny of the sweet puppy I held in my hands, 'yes.
' Four months later...
'Why, why, and why haven't you cleaned the floor? Now it's full of pee all over the place.
Didn't you properly potty train him?', my mom screamed.
It was one o'clock in the morning.
I had huge baggies under my eyes, and was about to faint from exhaustion.
'Sorry, I'll clean it up now,' I replied, drained.
The last four months were pure torture.
Thinking back, I never got to do any of the fun things I'd imagined, like taking him out for a walk, doing paw prints for Lucky (that's what I decided to name him), taking a bath together.
Instead, I was tasked with taking him to the vet (Lucky had a rather weak digestive system, so diarrhea soon became a common thing at home), cleaning his cage, mopping after the piles of faeces and urine waste he left lying around, because I never knew how to potty train him and didn't really conceive it on top of all that onerous work.
Two months later...
By the sixth month, I had enough.
Tension defined the atmosphere, and there were curses thrown everywhere.
Either I had to give up Lucky, or I'll faint from the sheer amount of work needed to take care of him on top of schoolwork, on top of the emotional stress flying around the place.
I still remember the scene up till today.
At near midnight, my dad went and drove Lucky to an animal shelter.
I didn't accompany him, but I couldn't forget the last moment when we parted ways.
Lucky was sitting in his cage in the back of the car, two glossy eyes staring at me.
They weren't eyes of anguish, nor of hatred, but that of sadness.
It was as if he wanted to say, 'why aren't you coming with me?' That night, I cried myself to sleep.
The thought of abandoning a life because of my incapacity to look after him wasn't half as bad as knowing that we actually connected, that the bond existed, and in no more than a split second, it was as easily broken.
The next day, I couldn't stand it anymore.
I had to take Lucky back, or I knew that I was going to regret this decision for the rest of my life.
Fortunately, he wasn't gone.
After explaining the situation, the staff were helpful enough to hand Lucky back to me after filling in a few forms.
Happily, I trod home with him, and he enthusiastically followed suit.
A month later...
Needless to say, Lucky was back, but so was the workload.
For an entire month, I struggled with schoolwork while dealing with the enormous pile of cleaning duties that were due everyday.
But worst of all, the above happened again, not once, not twice, but three times.
I argued back and forth with my mom (my dad was silent in this), and we ended up sending Lucky away and taking him back for three whole times.
At the end of this, Lucky's character seemed to have become more silent, and more withdrawn, as he outgrew his cage.
I suspect that up till now, his somewhat quiet character had its roots in his traumatic childhood - all because I was unable to provide him with enough care for his physical well-being, but most of all, love, as it's due to any other child.
I'll skip forward the timeline a bit.
One night, my aunt came to visit us.
I don't exactly remember the occasion, but she's a really close relative of ours.
So, at around midnight when she's departing, Lucky peed on the floor again.
I sighed, and got to work.
My aunt, concerned, said, 'there, give me those gloves, I'll mop it up.
You just go to sleep, hon.
' Breathing a sigh of relief, I murmured words of gratitude and fell asleep.
Soon, I knew that this couldn't go on.
On an eventful day, my mom sat down with me and said, 'this can't go on.
' For once, I had to agree.
'I would've really sent him to an animal shelter, seriously.
But, this time round, you have a savior.
Your aunt has kindly consented to take care of him.
And Lucky'll start living with her next week.
', she said.
And, five years later, my aunt has taken great care of Lucky and raised him into the beautiful Golden Retriever he is today.
This story is probably a bit dramatic, but I assure you it's 100% authentic.
Yet I still insist on sharing it, because I hope that by recounting a bit about my own experiences, you'll hopefully learn a thing or two about the responsibilities of raising a pup, and be able to make an informed decision henceforth.
Puppies are also babies.
They're no different than baby boys and girls.
The only thing that can be said for many of them is that they can't grow up alongside their parents, unlike human babies.
Hence, this delegates the responsibility to us to provide them with a comfortable, loving home, but more importantly, a childhood flourishing with happy memories, truly caring for their emotional well being.