TO mark my 4th birthday today, Mama finally got around to updating my blog—after five long months! Much has happened since then with Mama, which explains the silence. She left a long-time job amidst much pain and regret, but has pretty much moved on. I was there when she cried over it, and when she finally saw that sometimes you just have to jump, and God will take care of catching you. Thank goodness for evolution, as she likes to say. Trust me on that one; we dogs have a direct line to The Big Guy.
I’m still pooped from my birthday party yesterday where I had about a dozen doggie guests and about as many people. Let’s see, there were Tita Saree’s two bugoy beagles, Java and Mocha; Tita Audrey’s ultra-cool shih tzu Chili and my old friend Caper the whippet, who’s so skinny I’m always trying to hump him; Caper’s dad Raya and Tita Rina’s lovely (but rather anxious) greyhound, Beauty, and that little rascal, the Norwich terrier Hagrid; Misha the poodle who thinks he’s a great Dane; Tita Marga’s brood Tippi the Airedale (who stuck close to Mom and Dad because she was afraid of the thunder), Kohler the mini schnauzer (Mama’s second love, hmmmm), and the new adopted poodle Pixie; Tito Nielsen’s tiny Pekingese, Sonnet; and Tino’s girlfriend’s pug, Bongo. We had bones, as usual, plus fruit and cottage cheese, while the humans had a ton of food. Mama tried to get me in a dress, but it lasted about five minutes before I dunked my head in a bowl of water. So much for poise. That’s me getting a slice of birthday carrot cake from Mama, and pics of some of my furry guests.
A special guest was Tita Nenen from New York, and wouldn’t it have been a blast if Ate Wembly had been here! Here she is clowning around with me and Mama (channeling Kris Aquino, eeewwww). Tita Nenen worries incessantly about Ate, who’s in New Jersey with her friend Bridget and stealing the cat’s food. I’m guessing Ate Wembles is just a little anxious that her Mama isn’t within sight or sniffing distance, so she’s letting out some aggression. But we’ve got good moms, Ate Wembles and I; they’ll always come back.
I’ll be having my own little bout with anxiety in late June, when Mama leaves for India for yoga training for a month and a half. That’s a looooong time, a lot of chicken necks and kibbles’ worth of time. I will be staying with Tita Cora, but I do miss Mama a lot when she’s not there to cuddle me (albeit sometimes against my will). But I do know she will be back, and Lola and my dear Ninang Ame visit me every week anyway. I know it’s something Mama has to do, so I will accept and understand. Well, she misses me like mad, too. On her last trip, just watching Animal Planet on the hotel’s cable TV made her cry!
I’m lying contentedly at Mama’s feet as she types this for me, pooped but happy. She took me for a walk in the memorial park today, where it’s green and breezy, and I lay in the grass for a while, on the grave of the Lolo I never met. He was a quite a guy, Lola tells me. I hear Mama saying with some sentimentality that I’m at about a third of my life now, and hopefully with care and God’s grace I’ll live to 13 or more. Amazing how she worries so much about the years to come, when there’s so much living to be done today, and when we dogs are really not afraid of death. It’s just one of those mysteries we comprehend pretty well, knowing what the unknown really is and practicing the trust and optimism that we are so good at. We don’t need very long lives; we’ve perfected living, so there isn’t much we have to learn. But each dog on earth is here on a mission, and mine was to get Mama out of her funk, and to keep her happy and warm, and from all indications, I’ve done my job pretty well.
There are other updates we’ve missed from the absence. Rex the dude is now, by all accounts, huge and happy, loved to bits by his new family and welcoming guests to the pottery farm all the time. Mama has a new charity case in the aspin down the road, who gets fed and hosed down, but NEVER, ever gets out of his cage. He looks so morose, she calls him Lonely. I see Lonely a lot during our walks, ad he looks at me with unabashed envy and eyes that say, I wish I lived with you instead. Mama and my yaya Sammy just make do by refilling his water bowl and giving him treats. God, I count my lucky stars every day.
Also, Mama got me to put on another weird outfit for the Alpo Frisbee event. I was just supposed to strut around in costume with some cheerleaders (dig the funky red-and-white outfit on me), but ended up filling up the list of competitors. Me? Chase anything on dry land? You have GOT to be kidding. Give me water anytime. Besides, I needed time to chew on the things. Needless to say, my lack of talent elicited some chuckles, but I don’t have a self-esteem problem, so that was fine by me. At least Mama got three T-shirts, some doggie treats she’s sharing with Lonely, and dog food and shampoo she shared with Tita Saree’s bugoy beagles.
Oh, and did I tell you? Last Valentine’s Mama and I went on a serious date to Boracay, just the two of us. It was amazing! I behaved in my crate for the plane ride, despite the awful six-hour delay (SIX HOURS!), but the airline crew were pretty good with me, so I wasn’t too aggravated. We spent a lot of time just chilling on the beach, and even had a nice quiet dinner in an Italian restaurant, where I shared Mama’s salad while we listened to the waves. That’s me posing on the beach. It was wonderful walking on that sand. Anyway, Mama’s dream remains—one day, maybe, we’ll hit New York. Wouldn’t that be absolutely fabulous?
