Poised and regal, Elizabeth Taylor was the epitome of a beautiful dog with an even temperament. For a virgin dog owner, that sweet, docile dog was going to be my introduction to canine life. After failing to find the breed locally, let me take you fast-forward a year later to San Francisco: with the help of my two cousins, Cecille and Janet, I found myself combing the Bay Area for Cavalier King Charles Spaniels breeders. Regal they are; after all, they were the companions of the British royals, hence the name. I thought that this dignified position made them sophisticated, not wild or raucous.
With Cecille’s diligent help, we chanced upon a champion breeder with a six-week-old litter. We headed straight to the breeder’s place and upon arrival, she brought the pups out. I immediately fell in love with the puppy that ran towards me. What a sucker! I was flattered that this little bundle of fur came up to me and wanted to play. He was so handsome and gregarious I wanted to name him something that was the complete opposite of what he was  like naming a Pomeranian "Killer"  and thought that "Chewbacca" would be perfect. Typically Pinoy, he had to have a nickname, and "Chewy" was coined. I paid an exorbitant amount for this little life and begged my cousins to come back for Chewy two weeks later. I was leaving for Manila the next day and tossed the task of picking Chewy up, taking him for his last shots, handling his papers and sending him to Manila with Cecille and Janet (to whom I am forever indebted).
Since the arduous task of looking after a puppy and handling annoying paperwork was being taken care of by Cecille and Janet, I went back to Manila and continued about my regular routine, pre-Chewy, but now incorporated puppy shopping into my schedule. I went nuts buying doggy toys, such as squeaker toys shaped into various items, like a bag labeled Chewy Vuitton and a champagne bottle, Dog Perignon. I equated Chewy’s royal lineage with luxury goods and felt that he was so deserving. This puppy was to be a royal and loyal friend to my husband and I. Little did we know that the opposite was in store for us. Chewy was to be the exact antithesis of what we had idealized.
When Chewy arrived it was as if a tornado rushed through our apartment. The fact that he had approached me first during our initial encounter meant he was confident and assertive. As he grew older those traits were heightened  and we were frightened. Eager to try new things and be in the limelight, this "type A" puppy sent us to our wits’ end. What happened to the dog that was just supposed to sit there and look pretty and that we’d pet from time to time? It was impossible to hold Chewy down. The fact that we were first-time dog owners did not help either. He was relieving himself everywhere, chewing things up and, in a nutshell, destroying everything. We had just ruined our peaceful existence and traded it in for a chaotic journey. With sheets soiled and furniture in a shambles, we wanted to return him from whence he came and get a full refund. Chewy was screwy and didn’t come with an instruction manual.
A year and a half later things have, fortunately, taken a 180. Chewy has become our official reception greeter and garbage disposal. After rigorous training, Chewy knows how to garner attention by showing off his skill set. He is so well-trained that at times he will do tricks even before a command is given, especially if he sees that there’s a treat in store. We’re easy targets for doggy marketing, adding to the already prosperous pet industry. Always thinking of him, we buy him a small stuffed toy every time we travel which he easily and quickly mutilates. His favorite toy is a green frog that has survived many surgeries but is now left with one leg, after the ears, arms and other leg were amputated by Chewy. Whereas before I couldn’t relate, now I am so connected to Parker Posey in Best in Show and understand how fanatic people can get over their pets. Chewy is our baby for now and has made my heart grow. It’s amazing how my attitude towards animals in general has greatly changed, as I feel enormous amounts of compassion after my dealings with Chewy. I have also become more responsible towards other animals and have more empathy and consideration. I have been converted from a hardcore cat hater to one who doesn’t mind feeding a kitten or two.
It’s never a dull moment with Chewy around. His antics are too many to list but it wouldn’t be surprising to all of a sudden have him crawl up the back part of the sofa and start licking your ear without you noticing. He has taken my dad aback by hoisting himself on the pillow cushions and licking my dad’s bald spot. He can qualify for the long jump as he’s a pro at leaping onto our extremely high bed.
Since we live in the tropics, Chewy has adjusted to the heat and his hair, which is normally supposed to grow long, will remain short, making him look like a perennial puppy.
I know Chewy hates it terribly but our latest craze has been dressing him up in statement T-shirts, of which some read "Bitches love me," "I only bite when ugly people pet me" and "Don’t leave me alone." His wardrobe is beginning to rival many people’s closets but unlike most people, there are no skeletons in Chewy’s closet. What you see is what you get  affection, companionship, loyalty and laughter. People never fail to stop us on the street while walking Chewy to ask us what type of breed he is and if their children can pet him. He’s a real star. Chewy has grown into the regal persona that we hoped he would become when he first arrived and now exudes more effervescence and charm than the current British royals. He’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, not a Prince Charles one. His official name on his American Kennel Club papers is "Sir Chewbacca Royce Cohen Antonio."
Though he was more than what we bargained for in the beginning, Chewy has become an integral part of our lives. So much so that I can classify life into two eras: BC and AD, "Before Chewy" and "After Dog."