WET PLASTIC

I LIKE rain -- but only up to a certain extent. That's why I look so bored in this pic, trying to fit into Mama's poor abused red beanbag (used to be hers, now mine, arf). When it rained cats and cats recently (we REFUSE to take the blame for the deluge), we were stuck inside the house. Too wet even to take a leak in the garden without getting soaked, even for a Lab like me who loves the water. Mama and I took advantage of a 10-minute window for me to do a few laps in the pool, but it rained again, grrrr.
What freaked Mama, Lola, and Tita Jane out was that the water almost entered the house. Yup, one major torrent, and we could be Atlantis soon. Why? The drains are huge, the streets clean.
Mama's conclusion? It's all the plastic, stupid. There's just too much awful plastic going around. Humans can't seem to live without this strange material anymore, which has made garbage dumps life threatening and the world's waterways mere trickles of what they used to be once upon a time.
Mama has a new resolution. QUIT THE PLASTIC. It helps that the term has apparently come to mean something terribly derogatory for people (as in, you're so plastic naman, in fairness, arf). She was inspired by the new katsa bags that they're selling at Archaeology in Rockwell for the rather steep price of P350, although it seems more fashion statement than practical option. Apparently it's a local version of the Anya Hindmarch bag that people are getting hurt lining up for. Mama's been trying to get one of the green bags at SM, but she doesn't want to sign up for an SM Advantage Card just yet. They also sell bags at Healthy Options. The bottom line is, find any reusable cloth receptacle you can get your hands on, the bigger the better, and use them instead of plastic. Make sure they're not too expensive and washable, so you won't feel iffy about putting wet stuff in there like my chicken necks and veggies. Mama even wants to cart one to Starbucks ABS-CBN after she recently got THREE paper bags for TWO items (a sandwich in a bag, a muffin in a bag, and BOTH in a bigger paper bag). What gives? I thought you guys liked trees?
Me, I once actually SWALLOWED a small plastic bag when I found something yummy in it. Good thing it didn't kill me like it does my friends the turtles, and I just poo-ed the thing out. Bottom line is, it's dangerous, so you people have got to stop using so much plastic. It wouldn't be a problem if you knew how to dispose of it, but you don't. Period. And because you wrap everything and your uncles in it, our rivers and seas and lakes will ultimately die. Think about it. I could think of a few things I'd like to put in there...

THE DOGS AND MONKEYS OF BALI

SEE that yellow dog that looks strangely like me from behind? No, Mama didn't manage to smuggle me on board the plane for her five-day dive trip to Bali. But she did meet a lot of interesting dogs on the way. This one, on a moonlit street in Padangbai on the east coast of Bali (where Mama, Ninang Ame and Tita Joy De G were blessed to encounter a mola mola on one dive), was named Tibet, and seemed more interested in chasing a gekko down the road than posing for Mama. There are lots of wandering dogs in Bali, and although some locals supposedly still eat them, Mama was pleased to learn that there is actually a shelter for stray Balinese dogs on the island, like a PAWS center. In fact, In Tulamben, where Mama got to dive the fabulous USS Liberty wreck off a rocky beach, she met two German ladies from Dusseldorf, Eva and Utte, sisters who had local dogs on leashes with them. The two were called Moo and Blanca, and were being rehabilitated after a rather unpleasant stay with a local. According to the ladies, Moo may just be off to Germany soon, and so will Blanca is she doesn't find a good home on the island. Anywhere in the world, God smiles down on people who go out of their way to save dogs.
Mama kept that thought, and thoughts of Utte and Eva, in mind when she read an awful article on the plane, in an Asian magazine, about how the Chinese have to decide whether to stroke or stir-fry their dogs! The tone was positive; more Chinese are now rising up against the government to protest the maltreatment of dogs in China (remember that recent culling and mass murder after a rabies scare?). What haunts Mama to this day, however, is a picture of a dog slaughtered and cut into pieces, ready to cook. It was the most horrible sight; you could still see its eyes, and its snout had been lopped off. God.
Anyway, Tibet escorted Mama and her friends home from a restaurant on Padang Bai one night, after a fabulous meal of gado gado and beef rendang (for Ninang Ame). Mama also got sentimental buying chocolate filled bread or roti coklat -- memories of her childhood in Jakarta, when her dad (the lolo I never met) used to buy it for her. As Ninang Ame said, only good memories. But Mama felt all the Bahasa Indonesia she knew so well as a third grader come flooding back, and she found herself counting, bargaining, ordering food, and even asking questions in Indonesian. Made interaction more interesting.
Check out as well these pics of Ninang Ame and a family of monkeys, and a funny picture of mama and friends seeing, hearing, and saying no evil at the Mandala Wisata Wenara Wana, the sacred monkey forest in Ubud, Bali. Now this was a pleasant surprise, something Mama didn't expect to be a highlight of the itinerary. The forest is home to some 400 long-tailed Balinese macaques (Macaca fascicuiaris). Now, macaques are found throughout Southeast Asia, and many species manage to live successfully in areas occupied by humans. Here, in a lush forest with over 115 species of identified trees, environmental groups are working together to preserve a space for the monkeys that sits smack in the middle of civilization and in the same place as three important Hindu temples, including one for burial and cremation services. Indonesian guides walk around the area, gently reminding guests not to harrass or tease the monkeys. You can buy bananas to feed them, but it might not be a good idea. The important thing is, they manage to thrive and live without being fearful of people; visitors keep some distance and stay calm when the occasional monkey tries to sniff around them for food. Mama even had one little monkey peeking down her T-shirt! It was heartwarming to see them happy, well-fed and seemingly doing okay despite the influx of tourists with cameras and videocams. Is this better than a pure, wild environment where they are left undisturbed? Not quite, but considering the circumstances, at least there is no fierce competition for space, as what happens with other wildlife.
At least these guys were a lot less shy than the mola-mola! But more on them next time. Above water, the monkeys and dogs of Bali were a true delight.

BANANA THE CANNIBAL (OR, HOW I EAT HEALTHY)

SEE what happens when you stay up late and watch these strange movies, Mama? Anyway, I tell you, she was up till 2 am watching a psycho B-film about a screwed-up guy who's a cannibal, who meets a kindred soul who WANTS to die by being chopped up and eaten...sheesh, people. Then Mama remembered how Tita Marga (Carpio, that's my vet, Vets in Practice, tel.no 533-7965) once texted Mama that she was feeding me banana chips while I was waiting to be picked up at her clinic after a check-up. "Di ba cannibalism 'yon?" she said. Yes, because I love bananas.
I also love apples, pears, papaya, sayote, cucumber, lettuce (with hard-boiled eggs and tomatoes! Yum!), carrots (grated by mama for easy consumption), grapefruit....in short, I pretty much have a healthier diet than most humans I know, and a lot of dogs. Mama mixes any of the above with 50 grams of dog food kibble (Canidae, an excellent brand that's good for all ages of dogs, from pups to seniors -- must be really good then), a drizzle of coconut oil, and occasional add-ons like yogurt or cottage cheese and kelp vitamins. Here's the clincher: she throws in raw chicken, beef, gizzard, or heart and liver.
The general reaction of the uninformed is "Eeeeewww! Raw? Won't the bones kill her? Won't she get salmonella, bacteria, etc?"
Well, Mama and her friends have adopted a localized variation of the BARF Diet by Australian vet Dr. Ian Billinghurst, which is heartily endorsed by Tita Marga and her fellow docs (that's her with daughter Roxie in bottom pic at my third b-day party). BARF stands for either Bones and Raw Food or the more politically-correct Biologically Appropriate Raw Food. What exactly does "biologically appropriate" mean? Simply that my ancestors, those grand old lupine sirs and dames, didn't eat out of a bag, and they didn't eat stuff that was processed literally within an inch of its life. The early dogs hunted and lived off game, smaller animals that included a lot of birds. They didn't sit around a fire and saute the things while knitting beanies for their pups, either. Fact is, the calcium in animal bones is the best we can get—better than any wussy supplement, really. Any excess, we excrete. And the bones are surprisingly pliant and easy to digest—it's when they're cooked that they become brittle and lethal. I know—i know dogs who have died from punctured stomachs because of chewing on cooked bones.
So early dogs ate that, and a lot of the plants around them, making for a really natural diet. Why do you think your dog still eats grass once in a while? It's our ancient memory of a remedy for an upset stomach—chomp on some grass, and throw up whatever's bugging us! So you see, we're a lot more durable than you think, you just baby us with all these store-bought goodies and, heavens, mineral water! My ancestors hunted raccoons and ducks, and you're giving me mineral water? How screwed is that?!
Anyway, there are companies in the west making a killing from prepared BARF meals, so of course, Pinoy parents have adapted. Tita Popi, mother of my honey Una, dumps about three kinds of veggies, tons of offal and raw stuff, and a wee bit of dog food in a bowl for Una's once-a-day meal. Mama thinks I would benefit from two meals for better digestion, so she feeds me twice a day, sticks to one veggie for the morning and one fruit for the pm, and picks either a quarter chicken breast or 2-3 chicken necks per meal or about 15 grams of raw ground beef or a few pieces of liver or gizzard.
Now, she doesn't just take the stuff out of the pack and throw it to me, though. To play it safe, she soaks the meat in water withs some vinegar for a few minutes to kill anything evil. Then it's thawed as needed (pre-packed in individual sandwich bags), thrown into my bowl (or a quick microwave defrost), and I'm soooo happy. Plus, although it takes more effort for Mama to shop for fresh vegetables every week, it comes out cheaper than buying tons of imported dog food in sacks. Sayote is only about P12 a kilo, she says, and nobody really knows what to do with chicken necks—a gourmet feast for me!
So far, what has it done for me? I'm healthier, my dysplasia has been kept under control, and my operated kneecap has healed beautifully. My blood values are excellent (so says Tita Marga), and to top it all, my poo doesn't stink so much, and neither do I! I think it's a great alternative to dog food made by companies that have been discovered to be actually TESTING their products on animals (PETA found a video of dog food maker IAMS doing unspeakable things to beagles in their lab—talk about ironic!). I have also never snacked on a piece of processed meat in my life—Mama leaps like a stuntwoman when some moronic friends or relatives attempt to hand me a slice of Spam or canned vienna sausage. The things that usually come my way from the table are lettuce leaves, beans, carrots, and the occasional (but already borderline) piece of bread. Mama would rather dollop some oatmeal on the floor than put me anywhere near a pork chop, as well. My Mom really looks out for me, sigh. Check out these photos of a typical two banana-kibble-and-chicken neck dinner, dressed with virgin coconut oil for flavor and good skin and hair; me wolfing it down (notice how the bowl is on a low stool, another Tita Marga nugget of wisdom—big dogs get food down their throats easier if they don't have to bend all the way down to the floor to get it); and me looking morose after I've cleaned out my bowl. As in, THAT'S IT?!!!! Oh, but Mama has her reasons—she's leaving room for late night snacks like charcoal treats or pieces of fruit. And to think there was a time I didn't have an appetite because of a lousy misdiagnosis, but that's another long story. Now I love meal time—and people, I really do get enough; don't believe your Lab when he or she gives you a really sad look. We'll try anything—and we're really good at looking cute and sad, hehe.
If you're feeling weird about getting on BARF, check out websites like www.barfworld.com (but don't get conned into buying anything), www.drianbillinghurst.com (or grab his book, "Give Your Dog A Bone," available in better bookstores), or the helpful www.njboxers.com, which has an excellent Q and A for the interested. With all that good stuff in me, Mama is praying I live a long and happy life. Hey, knowing I've got Mama, Lola, and my ninangs (more on them in the future) looking out for me, I'm already the happiest dog in the world.

FOR THE LOVE OF PIGS

I THINK it's a fair enough place to start to think about giving up meat. Officially, Mama says she first seriously thought about giving up meat when she saw the John Robbins video "Diet for a New America" while on detox retreat at Mandala Spa. Unofficially, it can now be told: Mama can't eat pigs and cows anymore because they remind her too much of me (so can you imagine what she feels about people eating dogs?). Not that I'm that fat and round, really (hey, I'm in shape). But I'm also a living breathing creature with a mind of my own, and I was put on this earth for a lot more than just to fill up a human's' belly.
Mama gave up pork and beef in August 2005. The first few months were tough, she likes to tell people; she would break into a cold sweat whenever she even smelled a hamburger, which she loves. Fact is, it's not a good idea for a diabetic like her to give up meat, because she has found herself turning more to carbs to satisfy hunger, and carbs are not a good idea if you've got too much undigested glucose already. But that's the point -- she didn't give up the meat because of health alone, but principle. She can no longer abide by the idea that something has to die to feed her.
This year, she gave up chicken, which was easy compared to the hamburger hurdle. It's her lofty ambition to give up seafood within her lifetime -- hopefully as a 50th birthday gift to herself and to her world. She's praying for the strength to do that. (Check out this pic of her kissing a fish in the Burma Banks instead of eating it).
Me? I felt Mama's pain when she came home once and told me about a picture she saw at the Inquirer, of stray dogs being readied for slaughter in a dog meat place in Tuguegarao, Cagayan. There were about a dozen dogs on the floor, still alive, but with their front legs tied behind them. Now, if you give this some thought, and if you're familiar with our anatomy, you'll realize that this is not easy to do -- which means either the dogs were really pliant, or the monsters broke their front legs before tying them up and stuffing their snouts into tin cans. You read that right -- tin cans. All because they wanted something to pick at while doing something universally productive, like sitting and scratching their swollen bellies while getting drunk.
Please take a look at Mama's articles next Sunday in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine. One is about animal advocacy as a popular cause, and there's a sidebar on how to prepare to get a dog. She talked to friends from PAWS and PETA, and PETA's Rochelle Regodon sent us this poster of a piglet with a cute statement. This is cute and easy to digest, but Mama's seen some really awful footage of pigs being slaughtered.
Sometimes she's driven to tears when she's stuck in traffic behind a truckful of pigs bound for certain death. The unsuspecting animals are pressed together like sacks, unaware that this is the end of their God-given life -- to satisfy some human being's craving for a pork chop.
Oh, she tries not to be judgmental, because greater injustices happen every day to other people. As one friend actually told her, "Your dog (that's me) gets treated better than many kids in Metro Manila." But see, people can talk. Animals can't.
She understands when it is a cultural thing, when it's a level playing field between hunter and hunted, when it's all a tribe lives on. But barangay tanods slaughtering dogs in the playground? Raising animals for "sustainable" slaughter? What the hell is sustainable slaughter? What is the difference between catching a wild animal and killing it -- and raising an animal in a cage, and then killing it? I think "KILL" is spelled the same, either way.
Still, Mama doesn't go around slapping people like that Lanao congresswoman if she accidentally downs a piece of pork. Once in Vigan, she bit into a Lumpiang Ubod that turned out to have bits of Vigan longganiza in it. No, she didn't scream at the host and throw the lumpia away. She ate it.
Please -- for your health, for the sake of our collective souls, for the sake of this planet that is feeling the strain of having to support massive livestock and poultry industries, and for the animals you are supposed to be the guardians of, but which you instead kill and slaughter in the most ingeniously brutal of ways, even if you're not exactly starving...
PLEASE. Try to eat less or no meat. Contact the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) if you want to volunteer or learn more. All this killing has to stop. Please let my fellow dogs and fellow creatures like cows and pigs live. There are so many other things you can eat without shedding any blood.
That's a special request from me and my boyfriend Una (in the water with me, isn't he cute?).

SMALL TOWNS, BIG STREAMS: A Lab in Liliw

LAST weekend, it was another road trip for Mama and me as we visited Liliw, Laguna with my boyfriend Una and some human titas from Mama's yoga gang. For Mama, the goal was to load up on those cute beaded slippers called 'cochos' that she has taken to wearing for formal affairs. For me, it was a more physical goal -- to see my very first 'batis' or stream.
We arrived in Liliw on a rainy afternoon, and I had to endure sitting in a small shoe store while Mama and the titas fitted pair after pair. The folks at Socialite were nice, but really, when you're covered with water-resistant fur and have strong foot pads, you really don't need the shoes. (Little Misha, our poodle friend, did sport two pairs of doggie shoes, though. Clothes look cute on toy dogs, but my Mama is convinced I face the world best au naturelle). I must say, I applaud my Mama's patronage of locally-made crafts. Those slippers are lovely, nicely made, insanely comfortable, don't shorten her tendons (essential for yoga), and they go with anything. Mama likes to wear them for formal affairs, actually; she just wore a pair with an authentic Indian saree for the Auggie Cordero show, but that's another story.
The Fernandez ancestral home is big and lovely, with exquisite wood, old furniture, and tons of fun stairs to jump up and down (good thing I've lost some weight, or I would have pulled another muscle negotiating the steps). It was an unfamiliar place, though, so I jumped on Mama's bed at night. The air was cool, the windows open -- if not for the roar of ubiquitous rural tricycles, I would have slept through the night.
The next day, we woke up to wonderful morning light and a marching band celebrating the feast of San Juan. The light was otherworldy (see my pic in the azotea, sorry Mama forgot to rotate it), but that was nothing compared to the big treat -- the spring-fed swimming pool and the stream in Tita Gigi's family property, at the border between Liliw and Majayjay. The water was cool and rushing, and Una and I couldn't get enough. Eventually we settled at the pool, where Misha learned to swim , I fetched my kong toy and tried to climb on Tito Joey's back a few times (sorry, I can't resist trying to get a free ride), and generally swam myself to exhaustion.
Labradors and water. What else could be more perfect? And who knew that places like this still exist, hours out of the blight of Manila? Everything was so green, the air so fresh, I had to get used to it. Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she created forests and streams and mountains. It's when you humans think you know better that things get screwed up. Stand in the middle of Los Banos or Liliw, and see what the world should be, and could have been, if people didn't think you knew everything and proceeded to cut trees and raze moutainsides and rape the earth for minerals and dump disposable diapers and water bottles into the nearest waterways. Helloooo -- if you had just taken care, you wouldn't NEED the bottled water. Oh well. Humans -- we dogs are your best friends, but sometimes, your stupidity tests even OUR patience! ARF.

ON LOVING THE WATER

This morning mama skipped both work (not a hard decision) and yoga teacher training (aaarrrgh) because she had a swollen tonsil -- but she was not sick enough to stay in bed. Thus, as she is wont to do, she took me for a few laps in the pool, even as she just sat on the side and kept from getting her head wet.
Mama and I love the water. She almost drowned when she was a young girl, as her brothers grappled for her in the swimming pool and proceeded to drop her; she was in about 15 feet before they noticed the object of their conflict was missing (such a common occurrence in life, hehe). But when she did learn to swim at age 11 -- in 1975, thanks to swimming lessons with Bert Lozada that cost her parents a then-princely sum of P400 -- she became a water baby. Mama is happiest when she is tasting salt, fighting waves, and feeling the sun on her skin, UV rays be damned.
When she got me, she initiated me slowly into the pool, as the Labrador guide books advised her. I was a bit apprehensive then about the cool blue stuff, although I was no longer a small puppy at 7 months, but I immediately knew it was something familiar, something strong and good. I waved my webbed feet -- Labs have webbing between our toes, ya know -- and I knew I was home, too.
Now I go with Mama everywhere there's water, if she can help it. She;s been promising to bring me to Boracay, but I'm still waiting for that to materialize. We both find happiness of a deep, quiet, indescribable sort, a happiness we can enjoy even in solitude, when we're in the water, especially the ocean.

THREE

It has been quite a few months since we started this blog, and only now have we been able to resume. But Mama promised to keep it going, as she has much to say, not just about our life together, but about other animals who are being hurt and killed and maltreated every day. And we hope to speak for a few of them.
I am my Mama's alter ego, and although she will live much longer than I will, I know she is learning many lessons from me. That is why we celebrated in a major way when I turned 3 years old recently. The "baby seal" pic sleeping on the edge of the pool was taken in Mindoro, when i was just a year old. The other pic is my official birthday portrait. Both were taken by Tita Popi. I hope I haven't aged much, hehe.