As a kid, I cried when Patrasche died in the cartoon series, "Nello and Patrasche," which was our local adaptation of "A Dog of Flanders." Looking back, I think the tears that I shed was more for Nello, the milk boy who lived such a hard life at a young age. And that was that. That series and the other cartoon series which have dogs on it have served as my earliest orientation on how human-canine relationships work.
As they say, you'll never fully grasp it until you become involved in one. Well, our very first brush with it was with Prince (given to us by our neighbor) which can be described as shortlived. The sooner he became hyperactive, he was sent to a family relative whose backyard is spacious enough for Prince to move around. We didn't grow fond of him as he more often that not scares us. He tends to attack those who come near him. This is the reason why he's always on a leash. We haven't heard from him since then. The last we heard he ended up as a sisig or kilawin. (Sorry PETA, I might be wrong though).
A few years later, another dog came into our lives. We didn't ask for it. It just came unannounced inside a zesto tetra pack box. And I was the one carrying it. It was given to me by my now hubby after we lost touch over the years and through the wonderful world of emailing, we've picked up from where we've left off. Anyway, back to the dog. We named our new furry friend, Anya. There's no reason behind the name, really. As my sister, Aimee, put it, it just sounded right and fit her perfectly.
We didn't train Anya but even just a few months old, she is already displaying OC tendencies. Growing up, she didn't have a dog house as she stayed mostly indoors. At one time, she was confined in a very little space and there isn't much room for her to move in. Her soft, muffled cries woke me up one night and it's all because she was trapped in one corner and not budging as her poop of liquid consistency has already invaded most of her space. I've left with no choice but to clean up after her. What was even more puzzling is how she tends to hold her bladder for hours while inside the premises and relieving herself as soon as someone lets her outside of the gate. She is a picky eater; hates bath, hides in nooks where papa will have a hard time to reach her; hates cats; hates mice, she managed to kill a big one at that; hates the labandera no matter how many times they've seen each other; loves chicken and beef; loves playing with any kind of ball; loves being inside the house; loves being talked to; loves being slathered with attention, well, doesn't anyone?
She was an anti-social as she never gets along with other dogs, no matter what size and form they are. She doesn't seem threatened by the sheer size of another dog she's provoking to get into a fight with. We've never seen her so down or lonely until a few weeks ago when she succumbed to her illness.
I may have been away half her lifetime only seeing her when I went back home but losing her did hit me. We will miss how she always animatedly greets us at the door as if we've been away for too long; how she clings and dangles to our legs never letting go; the tiring process of getting her back inside after letting herself out and into the neighborhood; how she can be so oh so brave one minute but be a scaredy cat (pun not intended) whenever she hears fireworks getting off - she almost broke down the door one New Year's eve in her haste to get inside. Make no mistake of leaving any tissue rolls in sight or it will get reduced to an unsightly mess of scraps, yes with dog saliva included.
All this and more, we will just one day laugh about it. And our hearts will be glad knowing that this adorable, easy-to-love doggie has touched and filled our lives with joy.
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| Anya, a few days before she passed away from liver failure |
