My student once asked me during an interviewing exercise in class: "Teach, are you a dog or a cat person?"
My answer was diplomatic: "I live with dogs, but I love cats."
Our neighbors in Baguio are cat people whose pets sometimes run wild and upset plants in my granddaughter's secret garden, to my husband's mortification. Still I admire the grace and independence of cats. Their scavenging instincts are still strong, the call of the wild still present. And they have such dignity.
Dogs are different. They need their human master's attention and companionship.
Our dogs in Pasig are the family's babies. The first one is a mini pin, the other a mini pug. The older one is Bogart, the younger Bruno. Bogart is fierce, the perfect guard dog, scandalous in his barking. Bruno is gentle and quiet when awake and a loud snorer when asleep. He is one of those creatures who lives to eat, not eats to live.
In dog years, he's slightly older than me. I will become a senior citizen this year. But in human years, Bruno is only seven.
So his humans, my kid sis Gigi and our adopted sister Ruth, decided to throw a party for him today, complete with balloons, birthday cake, party favors, a pabitin for the tots, our grandnephew Jared and grandniece Machiko, who'll be dropping by.
I'm excited. I have rehearsed my number for the short program. I'll serenade Bruno with "My Funny Valentine."
Excuse me while switch to my blue and yellow costume. I'll be the biggest minion in the world!
No comments:
Post a Comment