Bye Bogart

If Bogart was human, he’d be 56 years old by now.  That’s eight dog years.  He was a cute little pup when Mama bought him.  Who would have thought he’d grow to such a big, big dog.  His growing up years were really typical of dogs: teething that wrought havoc on our shoes, slippers and furniture, dog poop here, there and everywhere… but he’s such an adorable pup.  And when he’s good, he’s rewarded with a big bone which excites him so much that he’d get mad if I’d pry it off his mouth. 

A crossbreed between a Doberman and a pitbull, we always had the idea that he’d be a terrifying dog.  But he grew up to be a friendly dog!  He’s so people-oriented and so friendly!  If he sees that the visitors we have are our friends, he too becomes friendly with them.  We occasionally put him on his leash if we’re not sure how he’d react to our visitors, though.

Bogart was a playful dog.  And when he got so big, Papa and Emily can’t even take him out for a walk.  That’s because Bogart would drag them violently like a horse dragging a tied-up man behind him!  That’s exactly what happened to Emily.  She had the notion of walking Bogart around the subdivision but when Bogart saw a cat, he dragged Emily with him!  Emily’s pants were torn and her thighs and legs were bruised!  One time, during Papa's usual exercise of walking the dogs, Bogart jumped out of the gate and Papa was jerked out of the gate violently.  Papa ended up with a cracked bone on his left cheek.  That’s how Bogart became too much for them.  So I was left to occasionally walk him around the subdivision.  How could Bogart drag someone like me? Hehe. 

You know how he runs wild every time he sees Papa, Emily or me holding his red leash which we always use to walk him around?  He’d grab it from our hands and jump around and run to the door and out of the closed gate before he goes back to us as if telling us that, “Hey! Let’s go out!”

Bogart was such a sweet dog.  He’d often sleep beside Papa if Papa is sleeping on the mattressed floor.  He’d sit with me on the couch and snuggle behind my back.  Sometimes, I lay on the couch while he was already there first.  He’d make a small growling sound as if he’s complaining.  But that’s it.  I’m gonna miss those moments… You see, Bogart was banned from lying or sitting on the couch because he’d dirty the covers!  And sometimes, he’d leave his smell on it!  So when I sit on the couch and call him to sit or lie beside me, he’d happily oblige!  It’s like a treat for him every time I call him.

Fairly recently, I discovered that we can howl at each other.  Heheh.  Yes, it’s true. If Bogart grumbled, I grumbled back.  He’d answer with a tiny howl… and I howl back at him.  And we both end up howling… It’s like a game for both of us. 

Did I mention that he’s toilet-trained?  Sure, it took patience on our part, especially me! (I had to clean up after him!) But Bogart got it.  So it became our routine that at 4am exactly, he’d pace inside my room, make some noise without waking up the household. Just enough to wake me up.  It’s his way of saying, “Hey, I wanna go to the garden and do my thing!”  And since I am a light sleeper, I get up and let him out to the garden where he poops and pees.  Bogart loved to be scratched under his neck and ears. He's not a big problem when we have to bathe him.  The problem would be when he dries off himself, showering us with water.

 

He even has key words if you want to see some reaction from him.  When you say, “Pasyal!” (“Let’s go out!”) Bogart would raise his head even if he’s so sleepy, his eyes lighting up.  Or when you say, “Lolo!” (Grandpa—my dad), you’d get the same reaction from him.  *sigh* 

I never thought that there’d be a postscript from the Ondoy tragedy.  And that postscript would be Bogart. 

It was late in the morning of Friday, October 9, when I got a call from Emily.  She said that she contacted the nearby vet to check up on Bogart.  Before noon, Bogart was taken to the vet clinic so that he’d be given the necessary care.  Apparently, he contracted leptospirosis.  He’d been puking for two days prior to Friday.  He was still eating Thursday night.  But come Friday, he’s so weak and he wouldn’t eat that Emily called on the vet.  So Bogart had to be fed intravenously since he’s not eating anymore.  According to the vet, his eyes and gums were yellowish.  His stool was dark and smelled like he had internal bleeding already. 

Papa visited him in the afternoon and he said that it seemed Bogart was happy to see him.  Bogart wagged his tail twice… weakly.  When I visited Bogart on Saturday, he looked so tired.  Although according to the vet, his stool had lighten up (a sign that the internal bleeding has begun to stop).  But still, you never know.  I said the magic words to Bogart just to get a reaction from him.

“Pasyal!”  His eyes opened up and looked at me.  There was sadness there.  I got the same reaction when I said, “Lolo.”  He looked so tired. I was full of hopes that Bogart would recover.

But he didn’t.

oOo

I’m gonna miss Bogart.  Those times we played on the couch.  Those times when we howled together… Those times when I walk him around the subdivision… Those times when I bathe him… Those times where I had to wake up at 4am and let him out so he can do his morning rituals…

I know that he’s in a better place now… roaming free, barking playfully and dreaming dog dreams.