Adieu, Little Bruno!!

I had a little boi—no, not just any boi, but a fluffy, four-legged storm of warmth and love. Bruno,

our chaos coordinator! An uninvited but most welcome lap warmer...

He tested my patience, added to the existing mayhem orchestrated by my elder one, and yet,

somehow, made life infinitely better.

Oh, the drama he brought into our lives! He would sprawl across my feet, tail wagging, eyes full

of expectation, refusing to budge unless I made his favorite rotis. And what a mess he would

make—charging through the house like a tiny, furry tornado, leaving behind a trail of upturned

cushions, torn carpet edges, chewed-up slippers, and my rapidly disappearing sanity. I swear, I

never knew I could be this slow until I had to chase him around!

Cutting his nails? A full-blown Bollywood action scene. You’d think we were plotting a

high-stakes heist every time the nail clipper came out. And medicine? Oh, that was strictly

Pappa's department. One whiff of those bitter drops, and suddenly, Bruno was the most

obedient soul on Earth, sitting like a saint, waiting for his savior to make the awful taste

disappear. But if I scolded him? Oh, the sheer drama! He’d bolt straight to his pappa, seeking

immediate asylum, tail tucked, ears drooping just enough to amplify his "helpless victim" act.

From behind his pappa’s back, he’d peek out cautiously, throwing me those big, soulful

“but-I’m-just-a-poor-little-puppy” eyes, as if I had committed the ultimate betrayal.

And the moment his pappa scooped him up, all worries vanished—he’d nestle into his arms,

letting out the tiniest sigh of relief, as if to say, "See? My hero will never let anything happen to

me.” In that safe embrace, the world was right again for my little drama king.

He was the best brother Lucky could have ever asked for. They had this silent

camaraderie—one would raise a paw, the other would give a high-five, as if sealing an

unspoken pact of brotherhood. And Diwali? Oh, this little daredevil who had played Holi with

white cement accidentally left by the painter on the terrace, would now sit right in front of the

lamps, completely unbothered, like some sage meditating over the meaning of life.

But his most touching moments were when I was unwell—Bruno, like a little guardian angel,

watching over me with those big, soulful eyes, as if he could bring me back to health just by

staying close.

And then came the hardest decision of all—letting him go. As much as we loved him, we knew

he had outgrown the tiny spaces of our home. Bruno was a free spirit, never meant to be

confined within walls. We felt the pain of parting, but deep down, we knew what we had to do.

So, with heavy hearts, we let him go to our friend’s farm, where he had the life he truly

deserved.

There, beside a quiet water stream, with vast open fields and endless skies, he found his

paradise. He found a new companion—a big, burly German Shepherd who matched his

boundless energy. Together, they ruled their little kingdom, chasing the wind, splashing by the

water stream, and claiming every inch of open space as their own. No walls to confine him, no

leashes to hold him back—just the endless sky above and the soft earth beneath his paws.

For eight beautiful years, he lived—not just existed. He ran, he played, he roamed free, his spirit

unshackled. And in that freedom, he found true happiness.

He may have missed us at times—perhaps in the quiet moments when the moonlight cast long

shadows, or when a familiar scent drifted through the breeze. Maybe he looked toward the road,

wondering if we’d come running, calling his name like we used to.

But he was never alone. He had his big, burly companion, the rustling trees, the endless sky,

and the cool stream where he’d quench his thirst after a long day of adventure. His heart knew

the love we had for him, and though miles apart, we were always with him—just as he was with

us.

And then, far too soon, he was gone. A heart attack stole him away in a fleeting moment,

leaving behind only the echoes of his paws on the earth and the warmth of his presence woven

into our memories. The house didn’t feel emptier—the world did. No more eager footsteps

rushing to greet us, no more playful mischief, no more of those knowing eyes that had seen

every shade of our lives.

What remained was the ache—deep, quiet, and unshakable. A void that no laughter could fill,

no time could erase. Because love like his doesn’t fade—it lingers, in every corner where he

once belonged, in every whispered thought that still calls his name.

But if there’s one thing that comforts us, it’s knowing that he lived the way he was meant

to—free, happy, and loved. We missed him every single day, but we also knew we had done

right by him.

Rest in peace, my little charmer. You were, and always will be, irreplaceable...