Meet Zorro

Outside my window, on the left of my writing table, is a road that leads to a dead end—a creek that, I have discovered, half-encircles the subdivision.

This creek leads all the way to the boundary of Tanauan City; the boundary spanned by 10-meter concrete bridge that connects the only road that provides access from Darasa, one of Tanauan’s biggest barangays, to Brgy. Sta. Maria, Sto. Tomas’s largest in terms of population, including dogs.

Blocking my view to this road that leads to the creek is my dog house, a two-door steel iron cage that Zorro and Mizuki call home. They guard the house, or the house guards them, depending on what mood my two daughters’ pets find themselves in at any given time.

Zorro is a black Labrador; Mizuki, a golden brown Japanese chow-chow. Zorro is seven years old; Mizuki, four. Both are still virgins.

Zorro, Lilac’s animal companion, had an interesting life story. I acquired him after Bilala, a native dog with no particular breed but definitely not an askal, died from poisoning. Of what and by whom, no one knew, but the house help, Tita Bel, suspected he was done in by one of the night guards.

The story goes that one day Bilala woke up but did not get up. He refused to eat or drink despite Lilac’s cajoling, even singing for him a tune or two from one of my compositions about dogs.

The house help said that in the afternoon, Bilala just closed his eyes and stopped breathing. Unlike ordinary mortals, he was buried without a proper funeral. With the help of a neighbor, Tita Bel dug him a shallow grave in an adjacent lot. It was unmarked—no cross to symbolize his religion, no marble slab to write an epitaph. I think Bilala in life was an atheist, or an animist.

Bilala’s passing was not unlamented. Lilac unabashedly shed tears when he was lowered to his grave. When finally the last shovel of earth was thrown to the fresh mound of his resting place, my youngest daughter was said to have cried: “Bilala, bakit ikaw pa? Sino na ang magiging kalaro ko?” (Bilala, why you? Who will now be my playmate?)

One cannot miss the poignancy of this scene, although to adults it would have been funny, or ridiculous.

And indeed, it was.

Lara, my eldest, who always comes handy with appropriate repartee for the events she observed—such as Lilac’s deep bereavement over her dog’s untimely demise—later patted her sister on the shoulder and said: “Tahan na, Lilac, may kabayo pa naman tayo. Kaibiganin mo muna ang plantsahan ni Tita Bel.” (Stop crying, Lilac. Don’t worry, we still have a horse. You can befriend Tital Bel’s ironing board.)

Bilala’s poisoning was not headline-grabbing news. I did not report the murder to the police, for in rural Sto. Tomas the police is busy attending to crimes committed by humans against humanity, so it is illogical to have the poisoning of an animal investigated. It remained unsolved to this day, adding to the rising crime statistics that the authorities just shrug off or sweep under the rug.

To assuage Lilac’s pain over her dog’s death, her mother promised to buy her another canine. Zorro was an innocent pup when he first arrived and Lilac instantly fell in love with him, quickly forgetting that only a week before, she was contemplating digging up Bilala’s grave to find out if indeed he was dead. Unlike adults, children easily remember and easily forget. I have read it somewhere that this is the reason why there are more child angels than adult demons.

As a grown-up, however, Zorro has become playful and nasty. I can’t count how many rubber slippers and shoes he has gutted. Once, he tore up an umbrella left unattended at the porch and tried to eat a basketball. I have not brought him to a tutor to teach him good manners because it was so expensive so he learned to do what some humans do when they are drunk: take a leak inside the house. This, of course, meant added expense because Tita Bel would always remind the missus to buy detergent, air freshener, and shampoo for cleaning up Zorro’s mess.

He has also imbibed this habit of chasing other dogs. When Mizuki arrived, this became frequent. He was so jealous of other dogs sniffing at Mizuki’s female sexuality that he would bare his fangs at the slightest hint of intrusion. Once, he caught up with an askal and beat the poor dog so badly it limped away wailing and bleeding. I think the dog died and Zorro is now an official dog murderer.

So I put Zorro under a tight leash which I think he abhorred. I was told that Labradors love to be free and to roam in wide open spaces, but since I can’t afford him a ranch with what I earn from writing, he had to make do with our morning walks and the regular trips to the vet.

These walks made him muscular and heavy like Manny Pacquiao and also made him attractive to female dogs roaming the subdivision to peddle dog love. But Zorro would have none of these liberally promiscuous dogs. I think he has a pledge to remain celibate.

Mizuki, as I said, is also a virgin but this is another story deserving of another day.