The Saddest Tail [ah?]

I can't remember ever successfully keeping a pet. We had a big dog when I was a kid and his name was Butch. He seemed like a horse then, when I was about three-feet old. I remember him clearly because he's one of my childhhood trauma moments. When he was around, I'd run to my lolo and hide behind him while he shooed Butch away. He never got near me but he sure scared the hell out of me.

Then there was Puppet, she was an askal my parents picked on the road [I think]. We lived in Pasig then where I actually had neighbors to play with so I never paid much attention to her. One day she gave birth to cute puppies and I got to pick the cutest of the bunch. I swear mine was the cutest, I think I called it Brownie [yes, I was a very creative kid, harhar]. I'd sneak at night to check how Brownie was doing and when she seemed okay, I'd go back to bed. The most tragic thing in all my six years of living happened when i came home from school and found out that my puppy was dognapped. Of all the puppies to be taken by whoever heartless moron that was, he had to pick that of a cute pre-schooler who looked forward to coming home to Brownie.

When Puppet died, she was survived by the lone tough pup from her litter who was also named Puppet. My brother is pretty creative, too. That was his dog by the way. I can't recall how exactly we lost Puppet except that he was probably taken by the same dognapper who took my dog.

Seeing that my old neighborhood is not the grandest place to raise bright children and domesticated animals, my parents moved us back to  Quezon City with my grandparents. There was a no-dog policy in that house so we didn't get to have any more pets. Until one day, my tita's pastor gave us Burbur /ber-ber/ to keep while their house was being renovated. Lola conceded because she was overpowered by her children and their children so she allowed us to keep the dogsie for a while. Burbur is a cross-breed of a something and something else. He had blue-gray eyes and thick fur. When it was time for him to go, we were the saddest kids on the planet.

We recover pretty fast though. Our next attempt at pet-keeping was when we took care of a fortune lobster. We named him Sebastian. My little sister is scared of the claw things so when Sebastian molted, I took his old shell and paraded it in front of her until she cried, no wailed, while I laughed my head off. Lolo scolded me all day.

Lobsters don't live long so we were back to being pet-less save for the fishies, kois and others, from my lolo's small pond. It's not fun playing with fish. They're the most boring playmates ever. What I'd do is get the net and scoop out all the kois and watch them suffer out of the water. But I put them back in the water immediately when a) they had sufferred enough or b) when Lolo/Lola/ Yaya Carmen caught me. In fairness to me, I give them their feeds religiously every morning before I went to school.

The last pet story I could recall was a hamster named Kenan. We took good care of him because he was my sister's class project. I think it was I who held him last before the he died. Cause of death would have to be a rat factor, a cat factor or negligence. Tough to say really. Oh, but I cried when he died because I was attached to that critter more than anyone from my sister's class.

I'm thinking of getting a Siberian Husky when I move out of the house [the no-dog policy is still ongoing after a decade and a half]. And I promise I won't give him a stupid name or torture him or let him go to the dognappers. If only I can get someone to trust me with pets. Harhar.