Goodbye, dearest little one

Family time: Mum and dad with Mambo.

She was with us for almost two decades and brought much joy to the family.

WE have lost another member of our family. She was small, absolutely adorable, greedy and furry. Her name was Mambo, our Toy Poodle for 17 years.

Her death was all the more upsetting because it happened just four months after my mum’s passing.

Like Mum, who lived to 91, Mambo lived to a ripe old age, considering the lifespan of her breed is 13 to 15 years. She would have been in her 80s in human years.

Mambo came into our home rather unexpectedly. Before her, we had another dog, an Australian Silky Terrier whom the kids named Cera after the triceratops that was the main character in their favourite animated film, The Land Before Time.

Cera was a pretty little thing, too, and she lived with us for several years before she ran out of the house and was never found.

After that, I wasn’t keen to have another dog because it was painful to lose a pet.

But then we met Mambo. My sister-in-law had bought her for her mum, who was then bed-ridden, hoping a dog would cheer her up.

Mambo, however, was too much of an energetic handful and she was then offered to us.

My kids, of course, were delighted. I wasn’t until I looked into her lovely, heart-melting brown eyes and caved in. She sat on my daughter Kelly’s lap on the way home and they bonded just like that.

Mambo had a deep brown curly coat that was low-shedding. That was a key reason why we could adopt her because Kelly was asthmatic.

Another plus point was that poodles are relatively low maintenance in that you don’t need to walk them regularly. Our house was fortunately large enough to allow her to run up and down when she was in a hyper mood.

She was affectionate, but her loyalty was firmly with Kelly. She was happiest in Kelly’s room and slept there every night.

When Kelly was overseas for six months in 2023, Mambo was like Hachiko, the dog in Japan renowned for its loyalty in waiting faithfully for almost 10 years for its dead owner to return.

Every night, Mambo stood at the front door waiting for Kelly’s return. I had to put her pillow facing the door so that she could rest.

For the most part of her life, Mambo was looked after by our maid because the kids were in school and I was at work.

I must confess we were not as conscientious about socialising and training her. I was brought up with dogs, but they were always kept outside to guard the house, and Dad did the feeding and bathing. The approach to them was utilitarian and practical.

Mambo was potty-trained – for the most part – but was actually self-taught in many ways. She was that smart.

We lost her once when she bolted out when the front door and gate were open.

We went out looking for her and put up posters offering a reward in the neighbourhood and nearby areas. A family found her and brought her back.

After that, Mambo would never put a paw out of the front door. She had learnt her lesson.

But she knew when it was time for her walks.

The moment we took out her leash, she would get all excited and she knew it was fine to step out of the door.

She was also very cunning and greedy. She could jump very high to reach the breakfast counter and steal my cakes and other food right out of their containers. My son Nick has a photo of her trying to look innocent next to a stolen whole zucchini cake on her pillow.

She had a strange fascination with used tissue paper. She would also rummage through wastepaper baskets and pick the tissue out even though there was no food on them.

She also had a temper. If the family left her alone too long in the house, she would jump up on my sofa and either pee or defecate on the cushion. After that, I had to barricade the living room whenever we went out.

Mambo’s finest moments came when my parents moved into my house. Both Mum and Dad weren’t impressed with her at first. Dad was used to big, no-fuss mongrels while Mum never took to canines, even the ones Dad kept.

But they couldn’t resist Mam­bo’s charms and Dad enjoyed playing with her. Nick will always remember coming home from school one day and seeing her ears tied up on top of her head, thanks to cheeky grandpa.

Mum tried to teach her tricks and bribed her with snacks, and would repeatedly call Mambo to keep her company.

But age inevitably caught up with my parents and dog. The humans grew slower and frailer. Dad was bed-ridden. Mum went on to develop dementia and began to lose touch with reality.

Mambo’s lovely brown coat began to lose its colour. She grew increasingly deaf and her eyes started to turn cloudy.

Then her kidneys became problematic. By that time, Kelly had moved out with Mambo and the burden of care fell on her. She learned how to administer weekly saline intravenous drips on Mambo and she had to buy expensive specially formulated food for her.

But the once greedy Mambo had little appetite and Kelly had to entice her with special treats, blueberries and watermelon. As her cataracts grew worse, she kept bumping into walls and furniture.

Within months, she aged drastically. She seemed to mirror my mum in the last stage of her life. Both were sleeping a lot and hardly ate.

Then one night, Kelly called Nick frantically. Mambo kept spinning around and couldn’t stop. She was rushed to a veterinary hospital. The vet suspected a brain tumour and gave her medication that eased the spinning. After five days, she seemed better and was discharged.

But a few weeks later, she became very weak, was vomiting and could not walk on her hind legs. She was brought to the vet again and put on an intravenous drip. Her blood test results were very discouraging. She had pancreatitis and her kidneys were failing. Mambo was dying.

When I visited Mambo with Kelly at the vet, our tears fell uncontrollably. I was shocked to see how weak and listless she had become.

Kelly had to make the hard decision on whether to put her down. She couldn’t, and even tried giving Mambo porcupine bezoar powder, a traditional Chinese medicine.

After a week, Mambo passed on Friday. I felt relief for my poor daughter who couldn’t bring herself to put her beloved dog to sleep. We all cried.

There was the added relief that there are bereavement services for pets.

In the old days, when our dog died, Dad would just dig a hole in the garden to bury it. Mambo’s remains were collected by the service provider from the vet. As a keepsake, Kelly had Mambo’s paws etched onto epoxy resin before she was cremated. Her ashes will be returned to us and we will scatter them in the garden.

Mambo has been part of our family for so many years; it’s hard to believe she’s gone. We will miss her but we like to think that all dogs go to heaven, so she’s keeping Mum and Dad company again.

The views expressed here are the writer’s own.