There is nary a day that you would not hear her talking to him. She is always fond of him. She used to bathe him when she was still young. She even watches him have his meals finished. She always checks him before she sleeps. When she leaves for school, she kindly instructs others to check him from time to time. She loves him so much, as she is seen almost always caring him, even if he does not understand what those actions meant. He cannot talk. The only respond which shows his affection is his playful licking, to which she avoids.
His name is Yabby, an inflection of an initial name ‘Yaba’ which literally means ‘dear one’ or ‘loved one.’ He is just an ordinary breed of dog. Nonetheless, he is my sister’s favourite. In fact, he is the apple of the eye because my sister would not entertain the other dog and puppies. She would ‘bark’ at them if they quarrel with Yabby.
I remember that time when I had my own puppy I called Rocky. How I loved that dog manifested as childish tears when he died from eating a live toad.