Insights into a Bimbo's Mind

Canine Tales

Beng and I went on a dog-talk binge recently. Everytime we met up or chatted online, we spent 90% of the time talking about dogs and the rest of the 10% on other topics like American Idol, crystals and La Mer skincare products. Beng is considering which breed to get and me, I just ride on the fantasy that I can get one myself. Unfortunately Narrrling and I live in a condominium and rules in Malaysia aren’t exactly kind or fair towards aspiring dog owners like us. So nope, no dogs for us, but you can’t kill me for fantasizing.

Talking about it so much reminds me of the dogs I use to have when I was living at my parent’s home. The dog that carved the deepest memory in my head was a dog I had about 10 years back. I called him,(note that it’s a ‘him’), “HahhhhNeeeeeeee”…. In other words, “Honey”.

Thinking back now I wonder, what must have been going on in that wind-hollow head of mine to call a male dog by the name of Honey. He must have hated his name, because he grew up into one hell of a nasty dog. Now, it doesn’t seem very nice of me to call a dog nasty, because after all, dogs are famous for being nice and loyal. Honey was loyal, alright… but only to me. Anyone that came near his territory or me is either declared enemy or food. The grown ups were perceived as dinner, the kids were perceived as snacks. Oh man, I can’t even begin to recall the number of family member and friends he bit but for the love of the canines, I protected him.

One fair morning, he bit my mom’s wrists and it snapped some veins. When I heard my mom scream, I ran out and found my mother standing in the middle of a large pool of blood, with more blood still gushing out of her wrist. That was the morning I told myself, love dog or best friend, NOBODY, I repeat, NOBODY hurts my mommy. This insane-dog saga has got to end.

That weekend, I deliberately took an overnight trip to the highlands and told my family to ‘take care’ of Honey. When I came back, Honey’s leash was lying lame on the front porch and he was nowhere to be seen. I felt an ache for the lost of a long time good friend who has along the way, lost his way. I felt like it was my fault because after all, he grew up with me. I asked my family members what they did to Honey and amusingly, none of them told me the same story.

My mom said, “Oh, we released him at the market place and there was so much food there for him. Honey was so happy!”

My dad on a separate incident said, “Oh, we took him to the jungle and released him. He was so happy, he ran and ran. Even when we called him to come back, he didn’t want to come back anymore. Good place. The jungle is a good place for dogs like him..”

The little lies your parents tell when they’re protecting you and the funniest thing is, it never crossed their minds that they should sync their stories before telling me. I think in the end, it was my sister who told me the truth, that they got SPCA to come take him away. Since then, I’ve never really had a dog, not because I’m afraid of dogs that bite, but because I think I realized that keeping a dog is not just playing with him, feeding him and giving him a bath. Sometimes, you form their personality too. It’s more than just keeping them well fed and their fur fluffy but also teaching them, what is right and what is wrong, what is accepted in society and what is not. It’s just like bringing up a child of your own.

posted by Miki-C @ 3:31 PM