Living with dogs
May 23, 2004 | 12:00am
When I was old enough to start dreaming of a family of my own, my wish list included a husband, six kids, a home with a high ceiling, a little garden with several palm and yucca trees, a garage, and yeah, maybe a cute little dog.
Well, if push came to shove maybe I could live with two dogs, tops. But I drew the line where the dogs should stay. I knew without a doubt that I did not want them indoors. I had everything figured out, I was going to have a cute little doghouse for them (pretty much the same as the one Pluto had in the cartoons I used to watch), paint it in a color to match my house. I was even going to hang a board with their names on it. They were going to have cute, kitschy feeding bowls to match, too. Everything was going to be picture-perfect.
Fast forward to the present, almost a decade after my wish list was first conceived, I find myself eating my words (almost on a daily basis). Not only have our dogs invaded our home, they have also outnumbered the child Richard and I have.
I did not abhor the idea of some fluffy, four-legged creature trotting around the house but what I did not quite like was that these creatures (that camouflage themselves as cute bundles of wholesome domesticity) were actually going to poop and pee their way through toilet-training period, anywhere and anytime they wanted. And they were going to get away with it because after all, they are just dogs.
But like I always say, loving and living with my husband comes with embracing the world he moves in and understanding and accepting his hobbies and interests. Richard likes sports, the outdoors, and yes, dogs. His most beloved dog (who has since passed away not without a few tears from his owner) was a boxer named Brutus. He was trained by Richard and was a loyal and very disciplined housemate. So much did Richard love Brutus that this canine even had the privilege of sleeping in Richard’s room, on a leather-covered bean bag.
When we got married, Brutus naturally came with us. Simba, Brutus’ son, and a golden retriever named Polo also joined us. They were all too big to stay inside the house so they pretty much stayed outdoors. I found no reason to complain – we had adorable-looking dogs and despite their playfulness and because they were well-trained, the house and the garden remained neat.
But Brutus died, and five years later so did Polo (of a heart attack) and Simba (of kidney failure). On the demise of the latter two I was surprised to find myself shedding tears of my own. I never really played and interacted with them the way Richard did but hey, I really did miss them when they were gone.
Needless to say, their passing heralded the entry of a new cast of characters. Like the usual cycle of goodbyes and hellos – hello I did say to a mini pinscher Juliana named Boris, after a character her ninong John Estrada played in a popular TV soap. When Richard happily brought him up to our room on his first day at home all I could think of was uh-oh, he looks too small to be left outdoors’. He could very well be mistaken for a big rat. It was almost a given that Boris had to stay indoors.
If Boris’ arrival was a sign of things to come, suffice it to say that I wasn’t prepared. He pooped and peed everywhere and the only way I coped with this was to clean the mess immediately. Over and above acting like the dog that he is, Boris also loved to chew on everything, and I mean everything. He had a particular penchant for Juliana’s things, maybe because he figured they’re compatible with his size. Juliana, because she adores Boris, was very tolerant of his antics and misdeeds until one day when I woke up to hear her howling with tears running down her cheeks. "Mommy, Boris ate my Princess sandals!" she screamed in distress. "It’s okay," I sleepily comforted her. "You still have another pair of Disney sandals." "But mommy, Boris ate the one with heels!" she cried even harder. "It’s okay Juliana, mommy can fix anything with Mighty Bond," I said to her.
Boris is now considered toilet-trained, thank God, and he more or less steers clear of Juliana’s high-heeled sandals. And then one Sunday, Richard and Juliana came home with a shiny black Labrador. As a housewarming present (to me, I suppose) the unnamed black dog deposited on my shiny wooden floor the biggest, smelliest poo I had ever seen and smelled in my whole life. Take note, it was barely five minutes after his arrival. Our helper Juanita, upon whose shoulders always fall the task of cleaning up the dogs’ mess, rushed to the crime scene to clean up, spray bottle and newspapers in hand.
"Ma’am ano nga pangalan nito?" she asked looking at the innocent, cute lab.
"Wala pa."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, not make poo-poo here anymore okay only outside okay tsk," we heard Juanita tell the black lab.
At that point we knew we had to give him a name lest he be called tsk forever. All the way to David’s Tea House for dinner we contemplated on a fitting name. By dessert, Juliana had decided on Coke. Despite the difference in size, Boris and Coke got along really well and together they succeeded in shortening the time it normally took for me to change the sofa slipcovers.
And then came another black lab, whom we named Bruce, and it was upon his coming that the immaculate surroundings and picture-perfect interiors of our home were to be a faint memory. Alas, Coke’s partner in crime had arrived.
Just this week as I was having lunch, I saw Bruce and Coke casually walking side by side towards the restroom in our living area. I was watching TV where the Survivor finale was being shown. It was too late when I decided to check on Bruce and Coke. I found Bruce drying himself contentedly on the red hand towel while Coke was happily taking a bath in the toilet bowl. Juanita was exasperated because she had just cleaned the restroom. Later that day, Juliana’s playmate Joycee dropped by and while busy at play, I caught Bruce happily nibbling on her little blue shoe by one corner. What is it with dogs and shoes anyway? I managed to get it from him before it was too late.
In between the arrival of Boris and Bruce I forgot to mention the arrival of Bugsy, a white boxer that I actually find cute if not for the fact that he keeps on digging the garden grass. He is also responsible for chewing the sides and ends of an old solid-wood table.
Our gardener Florencio started to doubt that he actually had a green thumb because everything he planted did not live long enough to even start growing. And then there was Hunter, supposedly a hunting dog, whose life mission it seemed was to ruin all the screen doors in our home. At the faintest sound of lightning and thunder, Hunter would come flying through our screen doors, his paws dirtying the white paint. We had to give Hunter away because doing so was more cost-effective. We were spending an absurd amount on repairs.
All that said, I look at my husband and daughter having a wonderful time with the dogs and I realize that having them around is not so bad after all. The joy in Juliana’s face when Boris responds to her is immeasurable. I like how taking care of a pet teaches Juliana to be gentle and kind.
Especially now that Boris (after a couple of months in dog school) has a few tricks up his sleeve. It was wishful thinking on my part to only want dogs that do not poo and pee and always smelled good. That’s what baths and colognes are for. As it is in dealing with human beings, you just have to roll with the tide, enjoying the ups while at the same trying to rise above the downs.
Yes, I do have everything on my wishlist. I don’t have the cute little dog house I initially wanted and in the process the interiors of our home are a bit helter-skelter from time to time, the garden is not exactly the way I want it but I’m not complaining. At least the palm and yucca trees are much too big and sturdy for them to mess up and I have long assured Florencio that he really does have a green thumb.
Boris still chews on Juliana’s shoes once in a blue moon, Boris, Bruce and Bugsy are acts on their own. They leave their mark on our immediate surroundings but then I realize (and now appreciate) that it is the little imperfections like these that make our house a home.
I’m just thankful I’m dealing with dogs and not iguanas. Sometime in the past Richard actually did have an iguana but yaya Lita accidentally stepped on it (thank you, yaya Lita), thus causing its untimely death. But then that is another story altogether.
Well, if push came to shove maybe I could live with two dogs, tops. But I drew the line where the dogs should stay. I knew without a doubt that I did not want them indoors. I had everything figured out, I was going to have a cute little doghouse for them (pretty much the same as the one Pluto had in the cartoons I used to watch), paint it in a color to match my house. I was even going to hang a board with their names on it. They were going to have cute, kitschy feeding bowls to match, too. Everything was going to be picture-perfect.
Fast forward to the present, almost a decade after my wish list was first conceived, I find myself eating my words (almost on a daily basis). Not only have our dogs invaded our home, they have also outnumbered the child Richard and I have.
I did not abhor the idea of some fluffy, four-legged creature trotting around the house but what I did not quite like was that these creatures (that camouflage themselves as cute bundles of wholesome domesticity) were actually going to poop and pee their way through toilet-training period, anywhere and anytime they wanted. And they were going to get away with it because after all, they are just dogs.
But like I always say, loving and living with my husband comes with embracing the world he moves in and understanding and accepting his hobbies and interests. Richard likes sports, the outdoors, and yes, dogs. His most beloved dog (who has since passed away not without a few tears from his owner) was a boxer named Brutus. He was trained by Richard and was a loyal and very disciplined housemate. So much did Richard love Brutus that this canine even had the privilege of sleeping in Richard’s room, on a leather-covered bean bag.
When we got married, Brutus naturally came with us. Simba, Brutus’ son, and a golden retriever named Polo also joined us. They were all too big to stay inside the house so they pretty much stayed outdoors. I found no reason to complain – we had adorable-looking dogs and despite their playfulness and because they were well-trained, the house and the garden remained neat.
But Brutus died, and five years later so did Polo (of a heart attack) and Simba (of kidney failure). On the demise of the latter two I was surprised to find myself shedding tears of my own. I never really played and interacted with them the way Richard did but hey, I really did miss them when they were gone.
Needless to say, their passing heralded the entry of a new cast of characters. Like the usual cycle of goodbyes and hellos – hello I did say to a mini pinscher Juliana named Boris, after a character her ninong John Estrada played in a popular TV soap. When Richard happily brought him up to our room on his first day at home all I could think of was uh-oh, he looks too small to be left outdoors’. He could very well be mistaken for a big rat. It was almost a given that Boris had to stay indoors.
If Boris’ arrival was a sign of things to come, suffice it to say that I wasn’t prepared. He pooped and peed everywhere and the only way I coped with this was to clean the mess immediately. Over and above acting like the dog that he is, Boris also loved to chew on everything, and I mean everything. He had a particular penchant for Juliana’s things, maybe because he figured they’re compatible with his size. Juliana, because she adores Boris, was very tolerant of his antics and misdeeds until one day when I woke up to hear her howling with tears running down her cheeks. "Mommy, Boris ate my Princess sandals!" she screamed in distress. "It’s okay," I sleepily comforted her. "You still have another pair of Disney sandals." "But mommy, Boris ate the one with heels!" she cried even harder. "It’s okay Juliana, mommy can fix anything with Mighty Bond," I said to her.
Boris is now considered toilet-trained, thank God, and he more or less steers clear of Juliana’s high-heeled sandals. And then one Sunday, Richard and Juliana came home with a shiny black Labrador. As a housewarming present (to me, I suppose) the unnamed black dog deposited on my shiny wooden floor the biggest, smelliest poo I had ever seen and smelled in my whole life. Take note, it was barely five minutes after his arrival. Our helper Juanita, upon whose shoulders always fall the task of cleaning up the dogs’ mess, rushed to the crime scene to clean up, spray bottle and newspapers in hand.
"Ma’am ano nga pangalan nito?" she asked looking at the innocent, cute lab.
"Wala pa."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, not make poo-poo here anymore okay only outside okay tsk," we heard Juanita tell the black lab.
At that point we knew we had to give him a name lest he be called tsk forever. All the way to David’s Tea House for dinner we contemplated on a fitting name. By dessert, Juliana had decided on Coke. Despite the difference in size, Boris and Coke got along really well and together they succeeded in shortening the time it normally took for me to change the sofa slipcovers.
And then came another black lab, whom we named Bruce, and it was upon his coming that the immaculate surroundings and picture-perfect interiors of our home were to be a faint memory. Alas, Coke’s partner in crime had arrived.
Just this week as I was having lunch, I saw Bruce and Coke casually walking side by side towards the restroom in our living area. I was watching TV where the Survivor finale was being shown. It was too late when I decided to check on Bruce and Coke. I found Bruce drying himself contentedly on the red hand towel while Coke was happily taking a bath in the toilet bowl. Juanita was exasperated because she had just cleaned the restroom. Later that day, Juliana’s playmate Joycee dropped by and while busy at play, I caught Bruce happily nibbling on her little blue shoe by one corner. What is it with dogs and shoes anyway? I managed to get it from him before it was too late.
In between the arrival of Boris and Bruce I forgot to mention the arrival of Bugsy, a white boxer that I actually find cute if not for the fact that he keeps on digging the garden grass. He is also responsible for chewing the sides and ends of an old solid-wood table.
Our gardener Florencio started to doubt that he actually had a green thumb because everything he planted did not live long enough to even start growing. And then there was Hunter, supposedly a hunting dog, whose life mission it seemed was to ruin all the screen doors in our home. At the faintest sound of lightning and thunder, Hunter would come flying through our screen doors, his paws dirtying the white paint. We had to give Hunter away because doing so was more cost-effective. We were spending an absurd amount on repairs.
All that said, I look at my husband and daughter having a wonderful time with the dogs and I realize that having them around is not so bad after all. The joy in Juliana’s face when Boris responds to her is immeasurable. I like how taking care of a pet teaches Juliana to be gentle and kind.
Especially now that Boris (after a couple of months in dog school) has a few tricks up his sleeve. It was wishful thinking on my part to only want dogs that do not poo and pee and always smelled good. That’s what baths and colognes are for. As it is in dealing with human beings, you just have to roll with the tide, enjoying the ups while at the same trying to rise above the downs.
Yes, I do have everything on my wishlist. I don’t have the cute little dog house I initially wanted and in the process the interiors of our home are a bit helter-skelter from time to time, the garden is not exactly the way I want it but I’m not complaining. At least the palm and yucca trees are much too big and sturdy for them to mess up and I have long assured Florencio that he really does have a green thumb.
Boris still chews on Juliana’s shoes once in a blue moon, Boris, Bruce and Bugsy are acts on their own. They leave their mark on our immediate surroundings but then I realize (and now appreciate) that it is the little imperfections like these that make our house a home.
I’m just thankful I’m dealing with dogs and not iguanas. Sometime in the past Richard actually did have an iguana but yaya Lita accidentally stepped on it (thank you, yaya Lita), thus causing its untimely death. But then that is another story altogether.
BrandSpace Articles
<
>