[ greyweed ] -- and the bored shall inherit the earth...

After the carps have died (as did the goldfish, two shark-like things and even a pre-pubescent koi), we finally confined ourselves to the possibility that we were stuck with our two annoyingly loud, and overactive askals for the rest of our lives. James, our half askal, half labrador retriever who never grew taller than the askals in the street (was it something we fed him?), is now fully-grown but haven't exactly accepted his maturity has refused to take baths. And he is very violent whenever we attempt to even spray him with water. Pluto (blame my Dad for the lame nomen), is still a growing dog, and like James is completely immature.

I grew up with my family owning one dog after another.

There was XB, the only dog we owned who had a breed, a black Scottish terrier, was my favorite because it was excessively loyal. He was named after my sisters' favorite radio station that time. I was in grade school when one of my brother's girlfriends had gaven him as a gift, and everytime my sister or brother would leave for school he'd run after them. One morning, when my elder sister was leaving for work, she left the gate open and, having seen the opportunity, XB raced out of the yard -falling victim to a passing car. I had just awoken by that time and having seen my dog sprawled on the street (with the obligatory bystanders waiting for me to succumb to tears). I merely walked out and dragged XB's body into the yard, went to the bathroom to wash up and retreated to our room and cried my eyes out.

Then there was also Cookie, the only dog we owned from Mandaluyong that got to Angono. I even travelled with her at the back of the moving truck. She even had puppies, but being a dog lacking maternal skills - or even common sense - her puppies died one after the other because she refused to feed them, and the rest died because she slept on them. Her death followed, though the cause was still unclear; my Dad told me he just found her dead in her doghouse. We burried her beside her puppies.

Then we had three dogs from our new neighbors. All were named after our favorite rockstars, James after James Hettfield, Zach after Zach dela Rocha and Jet after Jet Pangan.

Dad thought we had too many dogs, to which I replied, "In a subdivision like this, you can never have too many dogs..." So he gave away our pure-black Jet to an old man I'd never trust. Dad told us the old guy owned a large compound in the next subdivision and he needed the dogs for security. We didn't believe it and even protested, but Dad had authority. We watched my Jet being dragged away onto the back of a pick-up truck, trying not to think of what meal he'd be cooked into. This made me decide to someday join PAWS.

Zach on the other hand, died because of my brother-in-law. Zach had been sick for two days, nothing really serious, he had gone through that same sickness before. We just gave Zach his usual medicine and had him rest, not knowing that he arose that night and slept under my brother-in-law's car. The following morning, Kuya unwittingly ran over my steadily recuperating Zach.

James is still alive.

Pluto is a recent addition into the canine members of the household. He was given by yet another neighbor, and remains as a hyperactive teen-aged dog.

For a week now, we own a grey, black, brown and white kitten wittily named Crookshanks by my niece Pia after Hermione's cat. Well, it's not really an extraordinary thing for most people, but in a house, of which 20% of the inhibitants have asthma, this is definitely a big no-no.

Crookshanks appeared one weekend afternoon under the empty fish tank outside the house. Dad, the bastion of the Oliveros Asthma pulled him (we have no idea how to determine gender in cats, so we're assuming Crookshanks is male for the meantime) out and we officially have a pet kitten. Mom was adamant, wanted to throw the cat out the fence, but Dad really wanted the cat, so did I and my nieces and nephew. The next morning, because Crookshanks kept on going into the house, Mom threw him by the creek. I was shocked at my own mother's own brutality and hatred for anything that could cough up furballs. The kids were grim. And we were almost ecstatic when the cat came back the the next day -AHAHA! He knows his home and even recognized me, he ran to me when he saw me.

I have always envied my friends ELAD and CHERRY because their longingness to own cats are quenched by the fact that Elad had a whole family of feline wonders and Cherry had her cats.

Now I have Crookshanks.