How do you measure the value of eleven years? He came into my life in 1995. I knew I would love him for the rest of my life from the very moment I laid my eyes on him. It was simply that kind of magic.
My dog, Axel, died recently. The eleven years he’d been my dog don’t seem to have lasted very long. I can still remember him as a puppy, arriving at our house in a cramped wood box with tape around his little snout to silence him, and smelling of nervous puppy pee. He probably peed himself on his flight to Manila from Masbate. Yes, he had to be flown here from the provinces. Pretty radical way to get a puppy, but I guess he’s a lucky little dog; or maybe I’m the lucky dog to have had him flown to me from so far away. We named him partly from Axl Rose and partly from a comic book character from Funny Komiks.
The best times were when we’d sit under the porch light, he and I, and that’s it. Most of the time, I’d have a book in one hand while the other one ran through his soft fur. Whenever I had to take back my hand so I could turn the page, he protested – swatting at my hand with his paw as if saying, “Hey, why’d you stop?” He never got tired of being with me even if we weren’t doing anything, just sitting there spacing out. That is how I’ll always remember him.
Towards the end, he’d stopped eating as enthusiastically as he used to. His fur started falling off in places. His wounds didn’t heal as fast as they used to, but festered and bled often before they scabbed and scarred. His obsessive scratching made them worse. He became deaf, and his eyes clouded. He was old and aging by the minute and everyone could see it. I guess toward the end, I’d already been preparing myself, hardening my resolve, readying to accept the inevitable.
I’ve had other dogs before, equally as loved and special to me, but Axel is… Axel. He was the one who was with me through the most difficult times of my life. And he will be the dog whom I will always refer to as MY dog, not the ‘family dog’ or ‘our dog’.
There’s a movie I saw as a kid, “All Dogs go to Heaven”. I may never see Heaven, but I hope for Axel’s sake that what the movie says is true. I hope he’ll have the playground of his dreams there. What I was never able to give him, what he would have wanted in his dog’s life, I hope he’d get it all. I miss him so much. And I’m worried sometimes, and sad most times; but then, I’m pretty sure he’s alright. He is, after all, a lucky dog. MY lucky dog.
(posted elsewhere 5 Sep 2006)
My dog, Axel, died recently. The eleven years he’d been my dog don’t seem to have lasted very long. I can still remember him as a puppy, arriving at our house in a cramped wood box with tape around his little snout to silence him, and smelling of nervous puppy pee. He probably peed himself on his flight to Manila from Masbate. Yes, he had to be flown here from the provinces. Pretty radical way to get a puppy, but I guess he’s a lucky little dog; or maybe I’m the lucky dog to have had him flown to me from so far away. We named him partly from Axl Rose and partly from a comic book character from Funny Komiks.
The best times were when we’d sit under the porch light, he and I, and that’s it. Most of the time, I’d have a book in one hand while the other one ran through his soft fur. Whenever I had to take back my hand so I could turn the page, he protested – swatting at my hand with his paw as if saying, “Hey, why’d you stop?” He never got tired of being with me even if we weren’t doing anything, just sitting there spacing out. That is how I’ll always remember him.
Towards the end, he’d stopped eating as enthusiastically as he used to. His fur started falling off in places. His wounds didn’t heal as fast as they used to, but festered and bled often before they scabbed and scarred. His obsessive scratching made them worse. He became deaf, and his eyes clouded. He was old and aging by the minute and everyone could see it. I guess toward the end, I’d already been preparing myself, hardening my resolve, readying to accept the inevitable.
I’ve had other dogs before, equally as loved and special to me, but Axel is… Axel. He was the one who was with me through the most difficult times of my life. And he will be the dog whom I will always refer to as MY dog, not the ‘family dog’ or ‘our dog’.
There’s a movie I saw as a kid, “All Dogs go to Heaven”. I may never see Heaven, but I hope for Axel’s sake that what the movie says is true. I hope he’ll have the playground of his dreams there. What I was never able to give him, what he would have wanted in his dog’s life, I hope he’d get it all. I miss him so much. And I’m worried sometimes, and sad most times; but then, I’m pretty sure he’s alright. He is, after all, a lucky dog. MY lucky dog.
(posted elsewhere 5 Sep 2006)
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