'It was only a dog'

These words pierced through me and I could only wonder at the heartlessness of the person who uttered them.

Was it because she was completely void of empathy and regard to other people's feelings, especially those who are suffering at the time? Or was it simply because she is a cat person? I will never know, but I lost an awful lot of respect for this individual, who dared to belittle my feelings and ruthlessly express her subzero-temperatured opinion on my recently deceased canine best friend that was Tiffany the Coton de Tulear.

Of course her utterance couldnt be further from the truth. Tiffany was like the Mother Teresa of dogs. She was a friend of everyone. She made little girls conquer their dog phobias and even dried up old men cried at the news of her death. Even the vet who put her to sleep, who only knew her for her very last moments of confusion and desperation, was so touched by her kind and benevolence-radiating presence, that he shed a tear following her sleeping off to doggie heaven.

Fanny never had enemies, only countless friends. She even had two boyfriends in two different cities, both of which were called Simba, funnily enough. The Simbas have also long since passed away. At least now she's with them.

In addition to the lifelong friendship and altruism, she shared something more profound with me as well. I've always been an animal lover, and this presented itself a problem when my degree depended upon animal lab work. When I glance down at my laboratory mice about to be put into water mazes, I see the same inquisitiveness and innocence that was present in Fanny's eyes. It surprised me that their black beady eyes dared to resemble my Fanny's beautiful chocolate buttons. Perhaps it was simply that animalistic cuteness that is universal to all furry creatures. But more likely, it was a look that was meant to make me question what I'm doing, whether I have any right to experiment on animals that were born into captivity. I still haven't figured this one out, but my respect for living things has deepened. Animal testing will always be needed to get the best possible medicines, but for now, I will give it a miss as a career choice.

Most importantly, to an only child Fanny was something to look forward to when coming home from school, dragging me away from the TV screen - which more or less raised me until computers came into the picture. She was the wet nose and superspeed wagging tail that carefully and playfully woke me up on weekend mornings with her chocolate eyes peering from under the white silky fringe. Leaving her to go study in the UK always left me feeling guilty. After the first few times she started forgiving me - and instead of pretending like she didn't know who I was, she lovingly cried of joy and jumped in my lap everytime we were reunited. Im a few days, she'd trust the fact that I was back, following me around and sleeping by my feet. I always let her down and got on that plane. I always tried to explain that I'd be back, but it didn't ease the heartbreak.

Her heart couldn't take it in the end. Separation anxiety from not only myself, but my travelling mother also, undoubtedly contributed to her heart eventually giving up on her. The final scan showed that it had expanded, causing her trouble breathing. Her backlegs also had had enough, with nearly 12 years of walking in a world of long-legged creatures.

Three of Tiffany's most memorable characteristics were materialised in a cake that I made for her memory - she was white, fluffy and very sweet. Thus I made an ice-cream cake filled with strawberries and topped with oven-goldened mareng (she had a brown 'candy-stripe' on her bum which Coton's sometimes have). For Fanny, or her spirit, I laid down a bowl of carrot sticks and boiled eggwhite, her favourites. I'd like to think she appreciated the thought.

Faithful Molly, my beloved friend Fanny, I will miss you always.