After an hour drenching a herd of cattle with dewormer in a farm of my client, I heaved a sigh of relief finishing the tiresome job and finally escaping the scorching sun. I packed my things, and bidding my equally exhausted client, clambered to my vehicle. While I was cruising the road, I was caught suddenly of the idea of visiting another client whose dwelling I will be passing through. In his 70s, this client of mine was full of energy and zeal of life. Checking or medicating Loki, his adored black Labrador, will only take minutes. But our ensuing chitchat in his veranda, over cups of hot corn coffee, would take hours. Honestly, it takes patience listening to his political views and his reminiscence of his younger days. We would chorus in giggles and laughter when he would recount how he won the hand of his beautiful wife by first wooing her parents’ approval and by haranas, fetching water, and gathering firewood. I tell you, he retold it a million times! But I just gave an ear because I felt his loneliness for his long departed beloved. After seeing the familiar worn-out gate, I screeched for a halt. Alighting from the car, I don’t know but I have an eerie feeling when I pushed the door bell. I peered inside but no one seems to be in the house. Just as I was about to leave, a passing woman hailed me and said. “You are looking for the old man, sir? I am sorry sir, but he passed away a week ago.”