In Memory of Putot

Last night, July 10, around 7 pm, Putot died. A few minutes before I arrived home.

I was just getting out of the car when my brother Lilet who assisted me park told me that Putot had just died.

Putot had been sick for two weeks now. It started with a red lump on his right eye, then recently with some wounds on the sole of his right foot. We gave him human medicine for pain, which I hope didn't mitigate his illness. We gave him milk in make-shift feeding bottle. My sister fed him with her hands. But he wouldn't eat. We cleaned his wounds with water and alcohol and put hospital bandages on them. But he would remove the bandages after a few hours. Perhaps, he just wanted to please us what with the care we put into the cleaning and dressing of his wounds. Yesterday, he was still responding to touch. I would normally pat him and scratch him on the back every morning before leaving for work. I didn't expect that yesterday would be the last time I would touch his white fur. Had I known, I would have carried him in my arms as I used to do and sung him a song like a baby.

I entered the house and the tv set was hushed down. The voices were low. My sister-in-law's voice was controlled while telling me how Putot died. Only my 3-day old nephew's cries raised an octave higher than all the hushed sounds combined.

I went to the kitchen and found my sister seriously crying without a sound, only the rush of tears told the world that her heart was crushed. Putot was her favorite.

My other brother Buboy was sitting by the door smoking looking after Putot who was already enshrouded with a blanket. My youngest brother Jun was digging a grave in the backyard while my mother was holding the flashlight.

Downy, I was told, cried and turned his back against Putot who was lying dead just outside his cage. Kunot had, I'm sure, given him the doleful, watery-eyed look. Pika must have, inside, died her own death.

Putot died. And it was not just a dog's passing. It was death in the family.

Putot and Downy

Pika

Kunot

In Memory of a Family Member

There are four human-dogs in the family: Pika (from picachu, sometimes called Peka, as my father is fond of calling him, is the mother-dog); Putot (the singing dog, "putot" as in putol ang buntot); Downy (the tiger-looking blind dog); and Kunot (the youngest, but the tallest and biggest monster-dog taken "by little" force from our neighbor). Kunot was born in 2005.

Let's go back to my calling them "human-dogs." All of them have certain human characteristics. All of them are treated like one of us. Pika can walk with the aid of my mother and sister to the barangay hall for an anti-rabies shot. She, yes, a not-bitchy female dog, wakes you up in the morning, and whenever you are asleep. She is a hug-me dog. She likes to be pampered, scratched on the furry, cottony back. She eats like a lady, taking only small bits of her food at a time. All three other dogs are scared of her despite her charming, lady-like demeanor. You need only call her name when one of the dogs is misbehaving and the latter will hide the tail between his legs.

Putot could sing. You need only give the tune and he will carry on with it. He was also the dog symphony conductor. When he starts singing, all three other dogs would follow. Like Pika, Putot was white, very clean white, without the long fur. He would sleep only when my sister Cynthia is beside him. When she is out and is on vacation somewhere, Putot could not sleep, walking and whimpering.

Downy, the blind dog, isn't blind when he was born. The child of Pika and the brother of Putot, Downy lives in a P1,600-cage with regularly-washed "tailored" mats. The cage was bought when he and Kunot had a serious dog-fight resulting to my sister's badly bitten hand. Downy and Kunot never saw each other eye-to-eye. The mortal enemies. We don't know when and how the bickering started, but we can only guess it is due to jealousy. Downy started going blind early last year. And in December 2007, he went completely blind. We all think it was due to the several wounds he got in the eye from his constant fights with Kunot.

Kunot, the monster-dog, is MY dog. He loves food, food, food. He barks and the room reverberates. He sings with the dog symphony and he has the tiniest voice. Kunot is the adopted dog in the human-dogs family. He knows how to knock on the door and breaks the door if you don't open it. He is the mocha dog with the dark brown collar without it he looks like one of those asong kalye. But then again, all our dogs are asong kalye.

Because they exhibit human attributes we treat them like human beings. I am not sure what came first - they acting like humans or we treating them like human beings that resulted to them acting like one of us.

We don't allow them to eat spoiled meals. With or without rice crisis, they are part of the rice ration. We cook rice for them even if no human family member feels like eating rice. They eat what we eat. We wash their dishes after each meal. We serve them clean drinking water. Kunot sleep in my room. Putot slept with my sister. Pika with my mother. Downy in his 1.6K condo. We bathe them with special dog soap which is more expensive than what we use. We clean after them like babies when they pee and poo.

We talk to them. We call them baby. We hug them. We kiss them. We love them.

Downy, Putot, Pika after bath