Walking the dog

After years of waiting, my wife and daughter finally got a dog. Occasional travels, the cost of pet care, and the prospect of adding another set of rituals to our already hectic lifestyle discouraged us from getting more pets, except for my hamster which, when stocked with enough food and water, could survive a month in a cage. There was also Ginger, the stray cat we also adopted, but she was more like a stay-out pet.

But last week, my wife’s violin student whose family owns around a dozen dogs of different breeds, gave her a newly weaned Maltese poodle. He came with his own papers like a child ready for adoption.

I proposed a name before it came: Andrei, after my favorite filmmaker, the Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky who thought that art is supposed to “prepare us for death”. When the puppy

came, I realized it was too tough a name for a cute, lovable, little furball.

Yet, somehow, the girls took the name, probably thinking of another Andrei. They easily fell for the Maltipoo’s cotton-candy-like golden hair that, thankfully, is hypoallergenic. It was a relief to know this little fact from Google as the girls sometimes bring the critten to bed. At first, I objected since it only takes a strand of animal hair to trigger my rhinitis.

So they splurged and bought Andrei a new leash, a colorful chase ball with rattle, a comb and two sets of dog food: regular and dog training reward food. I didn’t know the latter existed. We used to just throw morsels and leftover bones to our dogs back when I was a kid.

I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I come home to find Andrei dressed in some fancy dog shirt or even a froufrou tutu. Never mind if the dog is supposed to be male. Andrei looks like a blondie.
Now, I have to take my own dog-care chores. Every morning, I have to rise before Andrei does as a dog usually wants to pee right after waking up. So, I have to walk the dog and make sure that it pees and poos early in the morning. Never mind if I am actually still drowsy, I need to obey the new royalty in the house.

Since the day he came all he does is sleep, eat, play ball and sleep again. Once, I caught him shredding newspapers to bits, which worries me since I have books and some paintings piled on the floor.

I read about the need to dog-proof the house, again something that did not bother us with our askals before. What I did not know is that it means a major DIY project that could nibble on my budget and time.

To keep a pet is to invest money, time and even emotion. A writer-friend, whose dog also recently gave birth to puppies of Husky-Doberman-askal breed also offered to give me one, a black tough-looking boy that I hope would grow up to be a dependable security guard. I cannot rely on Andrei, whose petite anatomy makes it an ideal apartment dog, to even bark at the sound of burglars.

As she is still weaning her puppies, my friend keeps me posted with photos of my future best friend on Facebook. Recently, she posted about how one of the puppies managed to escape from their pen and was attacked by the neighbor’s dog.

The wounds proved lethal and my friend cried as she tried to apply first aid on the blue-eyed white puppy, who she named Frankie, after the original “Ol’ Blue Eyes” Frank Sinatra. I told her I used to wonder how people can get so emotionally attached to their dogs. I was not raised to develop such intimacy with dogs although I grew up surrounded by them.

Where I came from, I told her, dogs could be the next dinner. Those were the days before animal rights advocacy and slaughtering and eating dogs were not yet banned. In fact, it was common in our hometown to see a dish of dog kaldereta during fiesta, birthday party, or just about any occasion.

When I was an adolescent, I saw how, after he bit a visitor, our dog was sentenced to death by being turned into food. A neighbor volunteered to crush his skull with one blow from the heel of an ax. I felt a short pang of sadness seeing that but still managed to eat our former pet turned into kaldereta during lunch. We were raised to accept that it’s part of the dog’s life, that anytime, your best friend can turn into your next meal.

Times have changed and today, we look at dogs as no mere automata made to serve their human masters as guards, pack carriers, or even as food (a dog’s ultimate sacrifice). Dogs can be smarter and more sentient than we think, which means that they too may have souls that deserve respect. St. Francis of Assisi first saw that and he considered dogs and other animals as brothers and sisters.

How we treat animals is very telling of who we are. Right now, the amount of pampering we give to Andrei makes me wonder who actually is the master in the equation. Perhaps soon I would find myself trailing after Andrei in some pet-friendly mall and picking up with plastic whatever it is he might leave behind.