I woke up today half expecting Coco to come barrelling into my room, yapping his mouth off like he did every day. But he did not. There were only the sounds of the tea-kettle whistling softly from the kitchen. I rolled out of my bed, already tired even though it was the start of the day. I went to the kitchen where Mom was boiling tea and Ammi was reading the newspaper.

“Is Coco not back yet?” I asked hopefully in a brittle voice.

Ammi looked up from her newspaper and simply shook her head no.

Her response made me furious. How could she not care about Coco. He was a member of our family, Ammi had said so herself. She should be out searching for him. She should call the animal police and ask them to find my Coco. But her newspaper and her work and her tea were much more important to her. I ran back to my room without eating breakfast as Ammi called out behind me.

I spent the entire day in a foul mood. I scribbled furiously, stomped around the hour. I began screaming like Ammi’s father over the telephone.

How could he do that to us? How could he do that to me?

What about the time when he chewed Mumma’s favourite parrot-green kurti to shreds and I defended him. I told Mumma and Ammi that Shiro simply didn’t know better - he was only six after all, don't you remember how bad I was at six. Mumma had smiled then and given Coco his favourite treats. But the secret is Coco knows better. He is actually 42 in dog-years, even older than Ammi although he is younger than Mom’s father. He knows that he and I can play only in the apartment complex and not go out. He knows that we need to be home every day before it gets dark.

It's dark Coco, why aren’t you home?