About a Dog

Today I will digress from this Japanese Adventure, despite it being the famous New Year's Day. Instead, today I will tell you about a dog.

I remember very clearly the day we got this particular dog. I was playing out front when Dad called me in and asked if I wanted to go to the pound to pick out a dog with Mom. Of course I said yes. There were so many! Mom spotted her first, noting her spots and happy demeaner. I agreed that she was a keeper. We didn't take her home at that very moment. Mom said we had to look around more to be sure of our decision. So we looked around. Mom pointed out a shaggy puppy with grayish-whitish hair. I refuted it, saying it was ugly and ran back to the cage holding our future dog. I must confess though the real reason I refuted the dog which I thought was very cute was partly because I wanted a say in the choice and partly because Mom had already implied that this dog was The One and thus I had already decided on her. I must have been about three that day.

I was so excited to show her off when we returned home with her. Mom had suggested the name "Freckles" on the ride home, and with that toddler logic I used to pick her out, I decided on Freckles. My nickname was Freckle Face and so I thought it would be marvelous to have a dog with a similar name. In the end, it was my older brother who named her. He brought up the name "Abu", after the monkey in Disney's "Aladdin." The name was voted in unanimously, except for me, who held out for Freckles.

Abu and me and Jonathan grew up together. We took walks together when we were little and learned how to play with her together. Abu simultaniously learned how to play with us. I have fond memories of running around in circles in our hot California yard, chasing after the stick gripped feriously in her mouth. The first few years we were very young together, just figuring out how to interact. She was instantly a part of the family and during dinner slept consistently under the kitchen table.

Abu saw the birth of two out of three of my little siblings. She was nothing but gentle and patient with us as we were learning not to pull her tail or ride on her back. She loved to be part of the action back then and anytime we got riled up, Abu would be right alongside us, jumping and barking excitedly.

She learned to respect cats when she was little. A tiny puppy, she had to submiss to our large, dominant cat's reign. I imagine when the cat scracthed her, she was just going for her favorite food (cat food) or trying to introduce herself to the stranger. Or maybe she wanted to eat the cat. Dunno, but that cat taught Abu to respect cats, a lesson she retained throughout her life.

We lost the cat when we made a huge move across two states. We lost a dog that got loose and ran away. We gave another dog away because she was too violent for our household. We've lost parakeets and guineau pigs and a lizard and a whole tank of fish. But Abu lived and didn't run away and wasn't eaten. She grew as I did. When I was old enough to run with her, she was old enough to take me running and watch out for me. She always knew the way back home. Sometimes when I took her running, I take off her leash a few blocks before we got home and she would zip ahead of me. By the time I would get home, she'd have already got someone to let her in and would be starting on an afternoon nap.

But usually, we never took her on a leash. My older brother and I felt indignant of the idea of putting a leash on Abu; really we knew she would take far more care of us than the other way around. Though we never took time to really train her, she learned to come if we asked her to, to stay off the grass if we told her to, and even to dance with us on her hind legs if it meant she got to do the initial jump onto the chest.

Abu grew from her roll of playmate to that of a babysitter or a nanny. If Jonathan and I were playing too rough when we were younger, she would show her disapproval by growling at us (there was a zetai difference between her angry growl, fun growl, and stop it right now you're going to get hurt growl).

One time Jonathan told me a terrifying story about vampires, assuring me that they were absolutely real. I spent that night cowing under blankets, trying to avoid looking at the window. Finally, I woke him up and asked him if I could sleep with him. "Nah. If any vampires came in here, you can bet Abu would take him." And I believed him. After that, whenever I was scared of the dark I called Abu into my room and asked her to keep watch over me for the night. She alternated who she slept with and usually once she picked a place, the other kids couldn't persuade her to change her mind, much to our dismay. But she seemed to know when we needed a listening ear or just her comforting fur beneath our fingers.

The older she got, the more dedicated to protecting us she seemed to be. She tested each person before they entered our house and, though she barked at everyone (especially in her younger days), she reserved a growl for people she didn't trust. Everyone in the house trusted her barks to the extent that if she was barking at the front door, someone would call a parent to go out with her and make sure everything was okay. If Abu refused to go somewhere during our walks, I would listen to her.

She knew when we were going on walks too. We would even have to say anything to her. She would just watch us put our shoes on and prepare and she'd be waiting by the front door when we were ready to go. It was heart-breaking sometimes when she fully expected to go on a walk and we were going somewhere she couldn't go.

Abu knew when we were the saddest, and was there whenever we needed her. She didn't care that I was a teenager with a teenager's hormones. She loved me even when I hated the world. She had various pillows and toys throughout her life, but in the end, her favored spot was on the couch, right with the rest of the family. No matter how many times we'd kick her off, she'd be right back on, and secretly, I think even my parents invited her on when they wanted her comfort. She considered herself part of the family and where we were, she was. We considered her part of the family too and felt empty whenever we had to leave her behind on vacation.

Abu took it upon herself to take care of us and if dogs can feel pride, I'm certain Abu was proud of us (me and Jonathan and Jeff, and even the little guys and the parents). She certainly played her part in my upbringing and I can't remember a family dinner without her laying patiently under the table, not begging, but enjoying the family and the stray food.

My doggy died yesterday. My sibling died yesterday. My aunt died yesterday. My friend died yesterday. My knight in shining armor died yesterday. Abu died yesterday.

It's not a terrible feeling. I miss her already and I can't imagine going home to a house without Abu, but it was right. She was 16 and has finished her part raising kids. May she rest in peace. May we never forget our phenominal dog. And may she really be up there right now, playing fetch with Dad under the California sun, waiting for us all to join her again.