Good Dog, Good: A Tribute to My Four-legged Friends

I read a passage in Dean Koontz's book, The Darkest Evening of the Year, that loving dogs is a 'penance for all the other illusions we allow ourselves and for the mistakes we made because of those illusion'. We take them in knowing that a dog's life is short. The inevitability of losing a friend would force us to share their joys and pains. Their death reminds us that whatever we do with our lives, we can only do it once. Death is not at all that bad because it humbles us. It reminds us to cherish those we love, including creatures who repay us with love and loyalty.

My mother Rhoda has always been fond of dogs. We grew up with a proud half-breed spitz named Dogart. I remember when me and my mother took him home. He was in an open red plastic bag and everytime he crawled on my mother's lap at the back of the bus on our way home, I would giggle with delight. He was furry and ferocious even as a puppy. I remember he bit me once when he was having his dinner and I tried to stroke his head. He was a good dog nonetheless. I named him Dugal after little Prince Cedie's dog. But my mother and my Aunt Lydia thought it was 'Dogart'. The name stuck, but he was indeed a prince's dog. He never complained even if he rarely got any chance to go out of the house. He stayed with us for eleven years (died October 10, 2004), and until now I regret that I never had the chance to show him that we loved him.

A neighbor gave us a frightened little dog. Dogart was still with us at that time and we had a hard time keeping him away from Timmy. She was a naughty but lovable friend. Children used to play with her and it seemed she would never get tired of chasing us around the house. She was clever too and we could never keep her leash on. She would sneak past the gate and explore the subdivision. She was already a few months old when we took her in and she was already used to the life of being a scavenger. Even she got enough food, she could not shake away the old habit. I remember she had such beautiful eyes, though there's a glimmer of naughtiness in there sometimes. Timmy gave us our first few puppies. It was an exciting thing to see. We were up all night when she gave birth.

We lost Timmy two years after we met her (March 13, 2004 to January 2006). We believe the pound took her but we did not try to look for her at that time. She left us with some puppies.

A year before that, Timmy gave us Tabby and Chubby. They loved to play as well like their mother. We lost Tabby on November 6 and Chubby on the 10th of 2005. Another lesson learned. Unlike Dogart, the puppies did not get the usual vaccines. The traitor was parvo.

When Timmy was lost, we had a few puppies at that time. Three of them were left to our care: Manu, Dunkin and Chubby (the 2nd). They looked very different from each other. Manu has white fur and brown spots. Dunkin looks like a Dachshund. He had white fur too but with brown and black spots. Chubby looks like a Doberman. They're a wild bunch.

Dunkin loves to play but hates being cuddled. He ripped and punched holes through our shorts, towels hanging on the clothesline. He'd grab for your socks as soon as you take them off, and would race you to the door. Sometimes he'd hold you down with his powerful forelegs that you can't even move. The last few days that we were with him, was full of games and laughter. We were playing with bubbles the night before a mysterious illness took him. He was weird after that. He chewed the legs of wooden tables and chairs and pulled out some plants. I let him out of the house one night because he was trying to get out and I couldn't sleep with all the noise. It was the last time I saw him. I blame myself for what happened.

Several months after that Chubby gave us some puppies. We left two of them and gave away the others. A perpetually frightened Manang and a playful Minnie filled the house once more with puppy noises. Within a year, Minnie gave birth to two cute puppies, Zilong and Ryu Bii. Zilong lasted only for a few weeks, but his sister Ryu Bii stayed with us for several months until parvo took her. We still didn't learn our lesson. We were confident that they'd be alright because we took care of them. Ryu Bii was spoiled. She ate five times a day and everytime she complains about something, we comply. A few minutes before she died she managed to wag her tail when she heard my voice. That broke my heart. The little rascal was close to me and she would follow me around if she could still walk at that time. I held her paw until her last breath.

We never had puppies again after that. And just this year on October 13th, Minnie passed away.

Dogs, although feared by a lot of people, are not called 'man's best friend' if not for the love, loyalty and intelligence they have shown us. They don't stare at you with cold, reptilian eyes and tell you 'I'm your master. I was descended from a line of ferocious hunters. Therefore you should pamper me'. Yet they have shown abilities that are beneficial to humanity. They are not independent creatures, but whose to say that independence doesn't have its downsides. They can be fierce, but they can also be vulnerable. Qualities that is also found in us, and it is no wonder why a lot of people attribute human-like qualities to dogs. They don't seek to be your equal, but they want to be a friend.

Death is never easy, and so is life. We go about our affairs even if we can see the reaper from the corners of our eyes. It is easy to ignore the creatures we call pets because they never complain and ask for anything. I live with regrets, but I also live with the good memories. Telling myself what I could have done would not bring back lost time. And that no matter how I cared for them and think they are special, I have learned to accept that they would still be taken from me. I don't wanna be selfish. They lived a good life with us, and they gave us joy that would always stay in our hearts. I'd like to think that perhaps they're on a mission to make another family happy.