A few years back, I learned just how difficult it is to assume full responsibility for a living thing. I realized it how it is to have someone fully dependent on you to provide her with her basic needs.
For as long as I remember, I've never been without a pet dog. Since before I was born, there has always been a dog or two in the house. I see pictures in old photo albums of my dad's dog who came into this house before I did. My earliest recollection of a pet dog is Tagpi, a mongrel given to the family by our the fruitvendor who lived and tended a store near my grandmother's place. Tagpi was free to run around the grounds, and even on the streets near our house (there was no dog pound jeep roving around then). So it wasn't really surprising that she delivered several litters of puppies in her lifetime.
One of her puppies became my first pet dog, whom I named Dollar, after Richie Rich's dog (I was a great fan of the cartoons then). Although I claimed ownership over Dollar, she was actually the family dog, because I was too young then to handle the responsibilities of taking care of her. All I ever did was play with her.
Fast forward a couple of years. A stray gave birth to a litter on the vacant lot in front of our house. There were four puppies, and because there was no pound yet, soon the puppies were roaming the street. Two neighbors adopted a puppy each, and because our gate has wide spaces between railings, the two last puppies learned to get in and out of our yard. So we ended up adopting them. I named one Shortie (because she has short hair) and the other one Shep (I have no idea where I got this name). When Shortie was older, she was then sent to my grandmother in Nueva Ecija, who then has only one old dog with her.
As askals go, Shep, like Tagpi and Dollar before her, delivered several puppies in her lifetime. The last litter was composed of two puppies only, and we decided that both of them should be sent to Nueva Ecija (Shortie has already died). Before they were old enough to travel, though, Attila, the more playful one, gave us a slip and was run over by a car. Boyo was left with us, but we still had plans to send her away once she was old enough to take the trip.
Unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, Boyo got sick when she was only a little over 2 months old. The vet's prognosis was not promising, and we were instructed to force feed her every hour until she starts eating on her own again. So that was exactly what I did for I don't know how long. That was my first time I really came to terms with just how much responsibility is involved with choosing to have a pet.
Boyo recovered, and because we had bonded during her sickness, the plans for her future changed. She had to stay. But I had to tend to her needs on my own. I was in college then, so I should be mature enough to be able to take care of a dog on my own. This was exactly what I did, but I still had to ask for help doing so when I had to leave home for med school.
Now that I'm back at home, the tasks were handed back to me. Boyo's now older, toilet-trained and more or less a low maintenance dog. Recently though, she got herself so attractive to ticks. The infestation was so great that she was visibly weakened by the blood loss, and she was scratching so badly that she managed to give herself a bloody wound at the back of her left ear. The tick problem was solved by more frequent bathings and more generous applications of medicated talc, but the healing wound was itchy and she kept on scratching it raw.
The vet said an E-collar (Elizabeth collar, named after Queen Elizabeth I of England, who used to wear similar collars) should prevent her from scratching her wound. I bought one and an antibacterial cream as well. Boyo did not like the collar (for obvious reasons...that's her picture at the start of this entry) but had no choice but to wear it. The collar and the cream were ridiculously expensive, and it really seemed uncomfortable. When her wound was being cleaned, the antiseptics and the cream were clearly stinging her. Still, Boyo had to endure it all to save her ear.
During this time, I was reminded that of the responsibility that comes with having a dog. In healthy times, having a dog is a blast. However, neglect to look after her led to this problem, so it was not only me that had to suffer...she suffered more because of my irresponsibility. I felt really guilty.
Boyo's healthy again, her ear wound is healed and she's becoming as active as she used to be before the tick attack. I hope I never overlook any of her needs again. By choosing to be her human and the recipient of her unwavering love and loyalty, I also chose to assume over the responsibility of providing her with her needs. I hope fellow pet owners know this and never forget it. I promise I'll never again need to be reminded of it.
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