I heard some yelping earlier on my prowl-jog ard my estate. At some points along my route, I called out their names in the hope, just the slightest possibility that they, having been taken in by some neighbors, would hear me and come rushing to the door/gate with my daily multiple tireless dose of JRT fervor.

I stood opposite Kovan Residences, aching my ears to find some familiarity in that cry that had echoed across the stretch of tarmac. I actually called out repeatedly : Sprite! Spunky! I stood there and heard what sounded like a reply or a regular sad refrain from a bored canine in the captivity of a flat. Drivers slowed down and peered at the direction where I was staring - no where specific as I was not able to spot any enthusiasm among the pocket units sprawling before me. Tossing between glimmering hope, growing despair and even a mercurial coagulation of acceptance of reality, I called out in vain to empty wounded yelping with no sighting of any tiny spirit out there. Finally I walked off.

It was tough. It was rough - all too razer raw to contain within.

At a quiet spot by a huge drain, the myraid of what if-s reared their ugly heads to mock me. Think it's easy to man up and let go of 'just dogs'? The world would stop to rake through a hay stack if a human child goes missing. I'm thankful for strangers and some friends who stood by to encourage the heart. But this devastation is perhaps more overwhelming than putting January to sleep years ago. I headed home trying to make sense of all of this.

Sprite and Spunky are NOT 'just dogs'.