The other night, Channel 2’s XXX featured maltreated dogs in a government pound. The dogs were kept in a tight space, were not cleaned, not fed, and were even beaten with wooden sticks. Most were extremely thin, filthy and sick from living with their own wastes.
Luckily, they were all transferred to an animal foundation that would take good care of them until someone adopts them. So there’s still a good ending for these dogs. 🙂
I don’t have a dog as a pet right now. Current work and living conditions prevent that possibility. But I’ve had a few wonderful dogs since I was a child.
Kimbo was born when I was two years old. He really was my grandfather’s dog but I spent so much time in their house that he became so familiar to me as I grew from a toddler to a girl. He was a huge black dog that scared the shit out of the neighborhood kids who tried to steal from my grandpa’s fruit trees, but he was very gentle towards me. I remember walking around the grounds as a very young child with Kimbo beside me making sure I was safe.
He was also as smart as he was kind. I would talk to him and he understood every thing I said. 🙂 Or at least I thought he did.
After one particularly strong typhoon, Kimbo got sick and died soon after. Grandpa buried him behind the house near the river. A day later, one stupid uncle dug him up and cooked him for pulutan for him and his drunk friends.
Mom bought this pretty Japanese Spitz while we lived in Manila, near the Malacanang Palace. She was our baby. A few months after, my brother Jiko was born. He adored her but she seemed to resent her presence. Jiko and I never had sibling rivalry because it was Ciara who developed attention issues with the new baby. 😀 But she was my girl. I loved that dog even if her sense of direction was worse than mine.
A few years after, all of us had to move to Riyadh and Ciara was sold to another family. I hope she was happy.
I named her after Christopher Pike’s heroine in The Starlight Crystal. She didn’t think of herself as a dog. She spent more time indoors than out, never made a mess, was such a lady that we never saw any evidence of dog poo in the yard during the whole time she spent with us. Whenever she’d go out and come home late, I would hear her knocking on the gate politely, asking to be let in.
When her babies were born, she immediately led Jiko and me to her “nest” beside the trees and insisted that we hold her puppies.
On the day of my high school graduation, I found out that the same uncle who ate Kimbo years before killed and did the same thing to Paige. I attended the school Mass, went home and cried myself to sleep.
This little puppy just suddenly appeared the day my grandfather died. We had no idea where he came from but he stayed with our family and never left after that. He liked to eat everything we ate, especially spaghetti. He had such an appetite that at one point, his tummy grazed the ground and his little legs cold no longer support him.
Pancho was friendly to the extreme. He would wag his tail at everyone, whether it’s a family member or a stranger. To our surprise, he grew to be a gigantic beautiful dog with a long, golden brown coat. He was a useless guard dog because he never barked or growled at anyone, but just liked to play all the time.
No one but my brother Jiko was big and strong enough to control Pancho whenever he was taken out for walks. Jiko and I spent most of the year abroad. Because of that, one of my relatives had the brilliant idea to sell him and buy a smaller dog and named that one “Pancho” as well. Jiko and I turned our noses up at the impostor and never had another dog since then.