GOD'S WONDERFUL CREATIONS (ONE WAS ALWAYS IN HEAT)

"What will you get if you crossbreed a bulldog and shih tzu?"
"A bullshiht!"


The movie Marley & Me reminded me of my former pet dogs namely Egan, Floyd, Bono and Relic. It is a film about a young couple and their pet dog, an oddly stubborn and troublesome but lovable Labrador retriever named Marley, who is called the world’s worst dog. Marley doesn’t just play or destroy things but eats them. Sofa, carpets, jewelries, tables, bed sheets, computer printer, answering machine, name it and he will eat it.

My first dog, Egan, was already old when I got him. After a few years of being with me, he started showing signs of Alzheimer’s disease. There were times then when I’d talk to him and he’d only stare at me blankly like trying to remember who I was. Sometimes he wouldn’t bark all day and would just read the newspaper which always led me to think that he’d probably temporarily forgotten that he’s a dog.

One day, he didn’t wake up anymore.

Floyd came next. He’s half-German Shepherd, half-Hayden Kh-, okay, he’s just an askal. All my dogs were, we just couldn’t afford dogs with breeding, the types that use spoon when they eat, so we’re stuck with askals. And askals are not really known for their intelligence.

Floyd was one horny dog. He was always in heat. Everyday, even when the sun’s still not up, he’d scoot to a neighbor’s house where a gorgeous bitch was holed up and he’d stay there and they’d make love all day. That lucky SOB. I had to literally drag Floyd away from that bitch everyday just to get him home. I would always remind him of the risks of unsafe sex and the troubles of unplanned pregnancy it would bring him and his bitch but he just wouldn’t listen. When I would chain him near our house's gate, he’d hump, while his tongue rolled in and out of his mouth, every human leg that would get near him.

Let him f—k all those bitches all day everyday! my envious older male friends (who are all girlfriend-less) would tell me then. Let that pervert get AIDS!

Fortunately, Floyd didn’t die of AIDS or of some STD, I was forced to give him away because he was setting a bad example in the neighborhood. All the dogs in our place were getting promiscuous. Sex is overrated, sex isn’t everything, I would always tell Floyd. But he just wouldn't listen. Gimme my bitch, he'd bark.

My third dog was Bono, the nicest, the cutest, the most charming dog I’ ve ever had. He was given to me when he still was a puppy. I named him after Bono of Irish rock band U2. He loved everybody. Play with him and he would dance (or so we thought) and waggle his tail for you and lick whatever part of your body was near his tongue. If only he could sing, then, he'd be a total entertainer.

He was stricken with a strange illness just as we were preparing to celebrate his second birthday. I don’t cry whenever I and a girlfriend would break up but I did cry when Bono died. I was already crying while I was taking him to the vet that fateful day.

Bono was able to convince me that dogs are truly one of God’s most wonderful creations.

The last dog I had was Relic and he was certainly the stupidest and the fiercest dog I’ve owned. A cousin picked him up when he still was a puppy at a cemetery, thus, the name I gave him. Relics was also the name of a Pink Floyd album. Relic sort of resembled Marley. Both dogs would chew anything, Relic respected no one except us who lived with him in the house. He would run after everyone who made the mistake of entering our house. He would run after my cousins, my uncles and other relatives and friends who made the mistake of entering our house and would try to really bite them. They would run inside the bathroom and hide or jump on top of a table or climbed on top of the refrigerator just to avoid him.

Get rid of that dog! they would castigate me. That dog is evil! That dog is insane, can’t you see! He would kill us all!

But Relics stayed with us. I was hoping he’d change. The dog certainly wasn’t crazy. There were times when he’d be gentle and play with me and would get cozy with me. But most of the times, he was fierce. He never was in heat but he was always angry and was eager to bite. I brought him to an anger-management class but he bit the instructor. Relic was unstoppable in his biting spree so I had no choice but to chain him. I would always end up footing the medical bills of the kids (he’d bitten at least three) kids whose only crime was to walk near our house when he broke free from his chains. Every time Relic would break free, a stampede would ensue in our neighborhood.

The last straw was when I once made the mistake of adjusting his food tray while he was eating and the son of the world’s sluttiest bitch bit me on the hand. It enraged me. I punched the idiot’s head with my bloody hand. It retaliated by trying to bite me again. I was ready to rumble with that a—hole of a dog when my cousins got hold of me. I thought I had the upper hand at that time because that mad, rabid dog was chained to a post.

After that, I let an uncle take him away. He told me he’d bring Relic into his farm. “He’d chase nasty rats there," my uncle informed me.

“Don’t believe him,” a cousin told me. “Relic would most likely just end up as a pulutan.
But at that time, I couldn’t care less. My hand was still bleeding.

I stopped having dogs as pet after Relic. That son of the earth’s dumbest bitch traumatized me.

Until few weeks ago, two cousins of mine each bought a chihuahua. I started getting envious. I want a dog in our house again. But I don’t like a chihuahua, I don’t want a dog who’s always in danger of being stepped on. I want one who is more fierce, one who won’t hesitate to rip the necks of thieves who would dare enter our house.

I want a poodle.

Puwede ko pang ayusan ng balahibo at bihisan.