We brought Mocha for sterilisation today. It took a year for us to take this action, even though professionals have talked so much about the pros of sterilising your dog, whether in practical sense or medical sense (significantly lower the risks of several types of cancer). Even in the last few days, we were still contemplating whether to go ahead with it. For me the thought of "he will lose his 'manhood', and he didnt had a choice - it was decided by us, and he will only know when the operation is over" keeps running through my mind.

Just two days ago when a friend came to visit, she had advised me not to do it. Cos when her dog got sterilised, she (the dog) was very very sian and it hurt my friend to see her behaving like that. Now I know what she means. Mocha has been whining quite a bit since we brought him home after the operation. He hasnt eaten and drunk for a day (requirements for the operation) and is probably suffering pain from the wound right now. My heart really aches to see that, and we can only try to make things easier for him - I spent much of this evening patting him and my mum is sleeping on the floor to accompany him tonight. Ya, he's the baby of the family.

If I ever get another dog in the future, I will make sure he is a healthy one whose future generation I would want to bring to this world (mocha has got hereditary skin problem, hence I do not want him to reproduce). So that I wouldnt have to have him sterilised. Even better, I would want both a female and male dog, so they can be the loving dog couple in the family.

A few days back I was still complaining to Ah C that mocha is a bad investment because I spent so much money on him and only get bitten and he only listens to my words when I have food. But today I say he's the best thing I have brought into the family because he has brought many smiles to the family, especially my parents. And he has grown so close to us that we share in his joys and sorrows. Everytime we bring him somewhere and leave him alone for a while, he will start crying for us, afraid that we will forget about him. Now I cannot imagine a day when he would no longer be here.