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I still remember when we first got her. Goldened fur. Slightly browned nose. She was part of a litter of puppies from my brother’s friend, in which my brother’s friends all adopted them. She was pacing around in her box, poking her head out, trying to climb over it to see the world. She loved the blanket that came with her, but the allure of the outside world was too tempting.

She cried and wailed the first night. Separated from her siblings and parents, she was in an unfamiliar place. I went down to comfort her. Understanding that the box was maybe too small, I used cardboard to set up a makeshift barricade so that she could move around.

She paced everywhere within that area, sniffing everything. Occasionally, she will look up as though I am the parents. The next day, she will be placed outside without the constraints of the insides of the house. She ran to all corners. She will stumble around or fall as she’s getting the hang of running and walking.

I remember her small barks then as she saw something unknown. She was infinitely curious. And with boundless energy, she grew up to be fierce but also gentle when around the people that she loves.

Every time my friends would come over, she was the first one at the gates, barking with all her might. And that pattern repeated for any mailmen, garbagemen, food delivery riders, and even the students beside our house.

Many people were afraid of her. She crouches down on her front legs when she barks at someone or something. And those somethings ranged from cats, rats, squirrels and even birds. She was territorial and she was not afraid to defend her house and her pack (my family).

Eventually, my friends will call her ‘the bitch’, about her fierceness and boldness. They were all fearful of her but respected her a lot for her ability to guard the house.

My father, perhaps the fondest of her, would always come back and yell her name out fondly. Coco will come out, tails wagging, tongue sticking out, and run in circles around him. It was her way to play. And he enjoyed her company when he sipped his afternoon or evening tea outside.

My fondest memories are plentiful. But the one that sticks out the most is when I got back from the United States. As I stepped down the car, I saw her sitting down and I yelled out her name. She was guarded at first but when she got closer, you could see the excitement exploded inside her. She ran in circles around me and jumped up to my hip.

I brought her out to walk and she was bringing me all over the road as if she’s trying to show me all the spots she discovered while I was gone. There was nothing that could stop her. If she wants to show you something, she’s going to drag you there.

And she was emotionally sensitive to those around her. I remember that I was struggling in my first year of working. There were a lot of instances when I was stressed out and on the brink of tears. And I will bring her out to walk.

She walked and looked back numerous times as if she was checking up on me. And when I sat down to think about the long road ahead, she would lie down at the bottom of my feet and just stare at me. Those moments were what comforted me on the darkest of nights. And I will do that many more times throughout my time with her.

When my father had his stroke and lost mobility in one side of his body, Coco ‘guarded’ him. He would walk out slowly outside to sit to enjoy his usual tea even when he couldn’t speak anymore. And Coco will stroll up beside him and lie down. When someone walks by the outside of the house, she will let out a loud bark as if to warn people not to approach my dad.

And as she grew older, we expected her to tone down. The opposite happened. Her will for freedom got even stronger. We used to joke, “There she goes” when we opened the gates. She will run out of the house, sometimes disappearing for days. And she will come back, refreshed and rejuvenated.

After a couple of years of running out like that, we noticed that she was coming back with some injuries. A scratch here and there. She was picking fights with other dogs, and winning them was what we concluded. It didn’t faze her.

But eventually, as she approached her 13^th year, her back leg was shaking. She was losing strength. So, we settled her at the back and sides of the house. But just as we thought she wasn’t as strong and energetic as before; she would always find a way to burst out of the side gates when we opened them to pick up things.

She was still picking fights with the cats that wandered into the house and chased them out. Age was slowing her body down, but her heart and soul were still free and strong. It was a testament to her indomitable will to not circumstances dictate her way of life. And she lived her way till the day she went to a better place.

We all knew she was going. All her siblings had passed and she was the last one standing. The day before she went, I brought her out to walk. She had more energy and she looked back at me constantly. It was as if she knew her time was coming, and she took as many look at me. As I stopped at the gate to wait for it to close, she sat beside me and looked up as I petted her head and neck. She seemed to enjoy it.

We dug her a grave outside the house and buried all her favourite treats and snacks. She suffered a bit but she was with us all the way. Now and then as I peeked at the side and main gates, I thought about how she darts out, determined to explore the world, with a spirit that bends to no one.

That’s how I remembered and will remember her for the rest of my life.