Birthday Boy

Nearly twelve years ago, a little doggie was born. He was very very large for his breed and got his name precisely because of this odd characteristic. He was from Subic Pampanga and was born under Tita Shirley's care. He was brought home by Mom, to a very unwelcoming group. He entered through the front door, wriggled and squirmed. He faced his disapproving audience and melted a heart.

Lynette, who waiting on the stairs laid her eyes on the wriggling bit of a thing, and laid claim to him.

"MINE!"

And that's how the story started.

Shamu was sweet. He was also a sleepy head. He would wake up in Lynette's room every morning, scratch the door to be let out, thus waking Lynette.( He did this so many times that the bottom part of the door he used to scratch had 1/3 of the door torn off from his repeated scratching)

Lynette would get up and let him out. Lynette would then prepare to go off to school mistakenly believing that Shamu was off to roam for the day. Shamu though, had better ideas. Once he gets the door open, he saunters over into either my or Eric's room, whichever still had the aircon on, and jumps on the bed and goes back to sleep.

Apparently, he considered being Lynette's alarm clock his only "real" job. Since he had already done his one duty for the day, he can now just go back to bed.

He was very mild tempered. People could squish him and bug him and he'd flick his ears at them or just look resignedly at the antics of the five people who usually did the bugging. Personally, I loved blowing on his head. He'd try to tolerate it at first, then gets irritated and scratches whatever part I blew on. I start laughing and he looks up at me with a weary stare. If I persist, I'd get growled at and snapped at (never for real though.)

Finally, seeing that he can't stop my bugging him, he'd get up and stalk off.

Come to think of it...that reminds me of someone else who gets easily pissed when being bugged.

Care to take a guess?

You know what they say about pets and their owners....

...or in this case, their "mommies"

He was also a true Reyes. he loved, loved, loved food. He would eat very quickly. He liked ice cream and iced water. He got so fat and tubby that the vet had to ask Lynette to get him low fat dog food. He didn't appreciate it much and everyone, taking pity on him, would toss bits of meat to him underneath the table during dinner.

His special treat was roast beef and steak bones which had to be secretly given to him. Usually because Mom and I liked those bits especially. Ma and I are big bone gnawers.

Occasionally, his instincts would kick in. He loved to watch out for mice. He was a good mouse catcher (which Lynette had major objections to) but since he usually just "watched," and occasionally barked, at the mice, there was usually no problem. However, every so often, Lynette would suddenly start screaming, and you could guess exactly what has happened.

He was a homebody. When he really wanted some peace and quiet, he'd get into Dad's room and jump on Dad's bed. Dad would come home and find him right smack at the center of his bed and would yell for Lynette to get him out of there.

When everyone was out of the house though, and when all the bedroom doors were closed, he would lay on the cool marble floor and just doze away. He would basically go outside only when taking care of his "necessities" and to mark everything a "his" by basically peeing on everything.

He would greet everyone enthusiastically when we came home jumping up and down, panting and snorting, and then escort everyone to their bedroom. He seemed to have a sixth sense when someone would come home.

If he happened to be in your room when he thinks someone is at the front door, He would politely "ask" to be let out.

He was relatively patient asking too. He would first LOOK at the door. Just look. He would look at the door, then at you, then back at the door. Doggie sign language you might say.

If you didn't get the message, he'd scratch at the door. Just once, then he would peer at you to see if you got the message, then a few more times. If there is still no response, he would scold you for your inattention. He would give you one very loud bark, again, just one.

Finally, in realizing you probably became temporarily deaf, he would frantically scratch at the bottom of the door in hopes of someone on the other side of it would hear him and open the door for him.

It was really funny to watch.

He really loved us though. He made sure that everyone was safe in bed at night (he actually made rounds) and so, he was traumatized when we left for Europe for a month. He watched us leave, and for thirty days, he waited for us without fail. He stayed near the front door all day and night, watching for us to return. Whenever he would hear a car pass by, his would lift up his head with hope gleaming from his eyes, only to realize, it wasn't us.

He became visibly depressed after a while.

When we finally came home, his greeting was rapturous, He ran from person to person, giddy with delight. Jumping and kissing, he ran around in circles looking like a mini tornado in his exhilaration.

For days he greeted us this way when we came home for the night.

After a while he seemed to readjust okay.

Only, since then, whenever a suitcase was brought out for whatever reason, he would look sad and would sniffle at us...as if looking for reassurance that we would return home.

At some point, his age started to show. His leg, which he broke years before, kept hurting him. He would bravely hobble about but he could no longer jump on the bed. His heart was bothering him and he was now usually found at the foot of the bed rather than on top it. He was so very stoic and uncomplaining despite his difficulties.

He died last August 9.

This May 31 would have been his twelfth birthday It would be my 34th. After eleven really good years, I'm no longer sharing my birthday with Lynette's baby.

We'll really miss him.