Patty, that dog

Mommy called up early this morning. Someone died. It was my seven-year-old dog, Patty.

She was my dog back in Mindoro. She was an askal and had spots on her body. First boyfriend gave her to me when we were on our fourth year in high school. Patty was famous to my high school friends. Sad I wasnt able to take photos of her.

I never got the chance to really play with Patty as I moved to Manila after high school for college. I only bonded with her on vacations and holidays. But according to Mom's stories, Patty grew up to be a great dog-- not the type who only wanted to be scratched and fed. Patty was different. She was responsible; she knew she had a role to portray in our house.

That time, since me and evil sibs were all here in Manila and Apapa had to work, Omama, most of the time was alone in the house, taking care of the deliveries from suppliers and orders from our stores. And she said, whenever these delivery guys were there, walking in and out of our place, Patty was there, on-guard, ears all stretched up, and sitting right beside her, conscious of what was going on around her.

Another story was, every morning, folks open up the warehouse. Instead of folks, going in there first to check things, it was Patty who came running around inside the warehouse, up to the rooftop.

But Patty didnt ever have a boyfriend. Because of that, she wasnt a mother to any of our dogs back there. I am not sure if she was lonely or at times, felt empty because of this. I hope not.

Patty was powerful. Patty was all work and no play. Patty was... darn great!!!

She was now at the back of the warehouse she used to guard the most.