Raj was a reject. Or so was the description of a friend whose dog just gave birth to five bouncing little puppies. They can't raise all five and he asked me if I wanted to have one. I accepted and two weeks after our conversation, I went to their house to pick MY puppy. Her name wasn't Raj back then. She was merely called "itoy."

When I saw "itoy," I fell in love. At that time, I thought, it was the same feeling a father would feel for his daughter. Her furs were light brown, soft and smooth which I didn't expect. She has long thick lashes and a permanent smile even if she was crying hard (looking for her mom?). She was a mixed race – part Golden Retriever, part Aspin.

When my friend handed her to me, she licked my fingers. Her gentle tongue tickled me, so I raise her high up in the air and looked at her eyes - they were mesmerizing and they were kind - something I wanted in a pet.

We have an instant connection. As I hailed a pedicab to bring her to my small apartment, I thought of her name. I played with dozens of name but none seem to be more fitting than Raj, a shortcut for Raja which meant royalty.

Growing up, I trained her to be intelligent and independent. She was curious. The curiosity often leads to small accidents but her being smart also saved her in a lot of instances. There were days that she come home crying, complaining about something that hurts her belly or the limp on her foot but after a few rubs on the head, she would be quiet and jump around like nothing happened.

I was a freshman when I took her in. When she was about 4 months old, she began to be my alarm clock. Every morning, she would lick my feet and if that wouldn't budge me, she would kiss me in the face. Her breath was always warm and the kiss would turn to licking and as soon as her saliva starts dripping, I would be force to rise. I would scold her and she would just look at me and lie down - smirking.

She was my security guard. She always does a perimeter check in my small cramp up room before going to sleep. When I transferred apartment, although my room is on the second floor with a very steep staircase, she would force her way up the stair contorting every part of her body just to sleep beside me. She would still do the perimeter check and it endeared her to me even more. Most days, we would sleep together until the sunlight gets too hot that we both pant in heat.

Time flew so fast and the once small, light brown puppy my friend called a reject became a large, loyal dog, the best I can ever ask.

In the summer of 2005, I have to leave the city in order to do my on-the-job training. With the help of a teacher, I managed to earn a spot working in a television station. Leaving was hard. Raj will be mostly alone in the apartment. My landlord's mother was too old and the best thing she can do is feed Raj. That was good enough for me. The two-month training period will be quick. I will be back before we both knew it.

Being away was terrible. I can't stop help thinking about the dog I left behind. When summer was finally over, I got back home as quickly as I could. The moment I reached the apartment, I looked for Raj - and I couldn't find her anywhere.

I sat near the window every morning for three months waiting for my dog to comeback. According to my landlord's mother, Raj had been crying and behaving badly when I left that she was forced to tie him down and put her outside the house's gate. She said that she was surprised one morning that the dog was no longer there.

She told me the whole narrative like she didn't care. I looked at her with disgust and I can’t help but feel that she did something worse. She never really liked Raj. For three months, I searched for my dog. I asked around the neighborhood and every day as I go to school, I stop for several minutes, sometimes, walking back and forth on that small unlit street from the house to the main street hoping she will be there.

But she never returned.

Every time I visit Raj in my memory, I feel a certain pang of guilt. We had a very good three years together. Had I been a more responsible owner, she would still be with me, perhaps even today. I wonder about her pain, about her sufferings. I wonder if she ever thought that I abandoned her.

I left that apartment several months after my hope of ever finding Raj sank in. To this day, every time I pass by that neighborhood, I look longingly at the streets hoping that Raj would come to meet me. There are days that I can’t help imagining how great it would be to be greeted by her . She would put her head on my hand and I would pat it ever so gently and we would walk together side by side and once we’re both tired, we will sit on the side of the road and watch the sun as it set.