I am a cat lover and had always been bar one incident involving clawing incident in the dark. But I forgave that cat long time ago. Plus it might be dead by now, and there is no greater sin then bearing grudge over a dead soul.
As much as I can, I had always been instrumental in promoting the act of loving cats, and at times accepting them as the only saviour of the human race if the whole world was annihilated by tragedies like asteroid attack, flooding caused by global warming or return of the pop culture icon like Vanilla Ice. I am also a staunch supporter of Cats Rights Action Forces (CatRAF), though the organisation has not been formed yet.
And I had always been a dog hater. In my life I had never ceased from cursing dogs, and even calling them names like – sorry for the vulgarity - “son of a bitch!”
But imagine my horror when I got back hometown early this week when I discovered my parents, yes, my own biological parents, adopted three puppies!!!
Or in my mom’s word, “No, no. They adopted us.”
You see, my parents are now in an estate owned by Atlas Ice Holdings Bhd. Yes, the same company that produces the ice cubes that you get in restaurants when you ask for Milo Ais, and you get about 80% ice cubes and about 20% hot Milo, which later melts the ice and your Milo Ais taste not much different from the drink your colleague is having, which is probably Air Suam.
That an ice cube producing company holds an oil palm plantation raises plenty of questions. What does palm oil has to do with ice cube? Hah! I can see a conspiracy theory coming, but I am too lazy to concoct one.
Well, as I said it’s a small estate, with population ratio of homo sapien and canis familiaris at 40:60. Yes, 40% human and the rest are dogs. Or at least that is what I feel considering the number of mutts hang around, like street gangs, near our house.
Anyway, during my last visit I got to hear that there was a pregnant female about to give birth. I left the next day, and it seems it gave birth to six little puppies. Three got killed along way (one was run over by tractors which is no faster than a steam roller…puzzles me about dog’s rapid response claim).
Somehow, they ended up (begging for food as usual) on my parent’s house porch. And my parents - their generosity knows no bound…I mean, really(!) – decided to feed them. And they stayed on.
Two of the puppies are female, not so subtly named Blackie and Brownie. From what I know dogs got no race issues, so Blackie is not derogatory for them. But the third, male, have a name that might confuse them – Chillu. For all you know in dog language Chillu can mean, “Booger head” or something.
And this Chillu character is very attached my parents. If my dad drives out to town, it will follow his car right up to the main road and when he comes back, he will rush forward and follows the car back to the house. It’s dangerous! I mean, dad could easily run the dog over and damage the car radiator.
Okay…okay…I was kidding. It could kill the poor defenceless puppy which shoulda know that running alongside the car is not exactly a walk in the park. Come to think of it, while walking in the park, you could be hit by a falling tree branch. So, running alongside a car is not exactly walk in the park with no trees.
And when dad gets off from the car, Chillu will be running around him restlessly. It now has to be petted and dad has to give it verbal assurance that he is not going away, that he still loves Chillu, and Chillu is a good puppy. Then, Chillu gives mock bites showing he is cool, and have calmed down!
I was enraged by this attention seeking behaviour. So, when opportune time came, I sat next to him and told him this: “Lookit here, boy. I am eldest here, Capish? Don’t give me this attention-seeking bullshit. I do that part. You just eat your dog food and catch robber or something.”
To which. Chillu promptly responded by licking its paw! I guess it inherited my rebellious streak (no, I don’t lick my paw)
Of course, out of respect for my parents’ decision, I did, like…, play with them and all. We also had some male bonding moments. When I pet Chillu, I came away with loads of sand in my palm. The dude’s been rolling in the sand when we repeatedly told him not to. That lovable ras…I mean, that annoying rascal!.
Whatever it is, my brother’s kid had good time with the puppies. Only time the puppies were missing was when my brother was playing firecrackers with the kids. Ha-ha! How do you describe scared dogs? It was fun watching them scampering around…from a safe distance myself of course. Heh.
Anyway, I guess you sometimes have to accept what happens to you in life. I may be a cat lover, but it doesn’t mean that I have to hate dogs for the rest of my life. Maybe the next few years, but these puppies, their antiques, the way my parents describe them like they are some adorable human kids…I don’t know. Maybe I might warm up to them…like I did during the bonding moments.