Love in the Time of Chocolates

MY ROOMATE Scarlett looks up to me with pleading eyes as I open a bag of nuts. "Oh, you greedy little pig," I chide her when she rushes to me at the sound of the bag rustling. "I'm not giving you a morsel." Not that I don't love her. It's just that dogs shouldn't eat nuts - it's harmful to their health.

Scarlett happens to be the greediest dog I've ever had. A black glossy-haired mixed breed, I used to call her Baby Bat because she did look like a bat. We at home liked to make fun of her looks - a small face, long floppy ears, snaggletooth, long body and a tail that never stops wagging. She has thin, springy legs that could move like a streak of lightning. She can jump on tables to grab a goodie and make a bold escape like Dillinger. Food would mysteriously vanish from the dining table. Her favorite victims would be plump bananas - skin and all. Once, I chanced upon her with a short, fat turdan between her teeth. You know, the kind of banana that makes one say "Daw butkon sang bata". I gave chase and almost caught her were it not for her short, silky fur. Scarlett is as slippery as an eel. Most successful criminals are, anyway. After a "break-in", Mom would rant and rave and promise that "one day, she's gonna get it."

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Then, One Day, while Mom got ready for lunch after the maid had grilled some alimusan (catfish) and cooked native chicken adobo-style, she caught Scarlett red-handed running off with a delectable chicken part. Since we rarely eat red meat nor 45-day chicken and subsist mainly on vegetables, fruits, and fish, native chicken dishes are a treat for us. This time, Mother put her foot down and promptly had my pretty damsel stuffed into a sack and dispatched to a dump two blocks away. I didn't protest because Mother had forgiven Baby Bat seventy times seven for past misdemeanors. From my mother's point of view, that was the last straw and 'twas unforgiveable. "She's going to send us to the poorhouse!"

The maid carried the sack to the dump and shook Scarlett out. I asked her later, "What did Scarlett do when you left her?" The maid said, "Oh, she promptly dug into the pile of garbage." With glee, I presume, the little girl must have thought she was in paradise. I love the girl, so, I missed her at night when she'd clamber up on my bed to take her spot at the foot board. I missed her small face innocently looking up at me during a meal to make pa-cute yet all the while alertly watching out for a wayward morsel. For the week that passed, I'd dream of her at night (no kidding!) I would worry when it rained and I imagined the worst that could happen to her. What if someone caught her and made a dish out of her? What if a pack of stray dogs surrounded her and viciously attacked her? What if she entered a house and stole food and the owner chased her with a rifle? My poor Baby Bat. Yet, I carried on with my life bravely since Mother didn't want her anymore. Or so I thought.

Mom and a cousin of mine took a walk one early morning in an area a block away from where Scarlett was dumped. My cousin cried out, "Look, it's Scarlett!" Sure enough it was her running towards Mother and Cousin. Mom whispered to my cousin, "Pretend not to see her." But the dog caught up and wove through two pairs of legs whining and whimpering. Mother couldn't bear it any longer so she told my cousin to pick Scarlett up. In my mother's arms, Baby Bat showed how much she missed her Grandma (that's my mom) by licking her face and whimpering and wriggling in my mother's arms. Oh, if the dog had arms, she would have wrapped them tightly around my mother's neck. All this time, Mom's cheeks were wet with her (Mom's) tears. She did miss the dog after all. Bummer.

When Mom and Cousin got home, Mom announced that she had a surprise for me. Oh, how I stared in disbelief at the small bundle in Mother's arms. Is it really Scarlett? Yes, indeed, it was her! It was the prodigal daughter come home. We bathed her and fed her. (She did lose a lot of weight.) And I kissed her again and again. Good to see you, my baby.

Then life got back to normal. And Scarlett stole more bananas, a piece of bread or two or sometimes made off with a whole bag if someone forgot to store it promptly, but no more fish nor chicken. Not that she got sick and tired of meat but we just became more vigilant. And she's still as greedy as ever. I saw her munch on a onion when a slice fell out of the pan. Dogs shouldn't eat alliums. Nor chocolates. Now, Scarlett looks up to me with her innocent pleading eyes as I enjoy a bar of Snickers. Sorry, kiddo, bad for you.

How could you love someone so unconditionally? (Gee, she has lost her marbles...it's only a dog.) Yet, aren't we all capable of so strong and passionate an emotion? This must be how God loves us sinners. (How can you love her, Lord? She's only a human being.) (Oh, shut up, Satan.) Thanks, Lord.