Cajucom: My golden girl

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

SHE became a member of our family in the summer of 2004, and felt at home the minute she walked into our front door. She was barely three months old and looked all cuddly and pretty in all her brownish glory (she was not yet golden then). It was not difficult to find a name for her – unanimously we agreed on naming her after the charming lady-love of Shrek: the name Fiona suited her like a glove. She was given as a gift by my childhood friend and former schoolmate Abi, and the minute she offered to give me a golden retriever, both hubby and I got excited with the idea and did not exactly think it out before we said yes. It was not exactly all pleasant during Fiona’s first months with us. It was no bed of roses; in fact, it was an awful bed of pee, poo and wet, messy newspapers and loads and loads of air freshener, not to mention seemingly absurd vet bills and special dog food for the newest member of our family then. There were times we got really annoyed with some of her habits as she grew, and sometimes I wondered why we got ourselves into that hairy mess.

But now I can’t imagine our life and home without her: she is huge like a stretched out light golden (more like light blonde) carpet on our floor when she is dozing off, and is a portrait of a canine goddess with hair a-flowing when she runs fast as she chases butterflies in the terrace. She is undoubtedly a member of our family: a caring sister who can’t sit still when she hears a “sibling” cry; a silent observer whose eyebrow lifts in times of heated argument; at times she is like a lost child who lazily sits by your feet and nudges you to try and make you feel better when you’re down. She is crazy about bread especially pandesal, and listens to orders in English. Seriously. There was one time she went outside in the garage and our neighbor was ordering her to go in (in Tagalog), but she did not pay attention. I opened the screen door and just softly told her, “Fiona, come in”, and she idly walked towards me. She would knock with her tail when I was late in getting up on weekdays, but sleeps late and never bothers on weekends, as if she knows the days and dates. Whenever hubby is out late with the boys, or the kids are spending the night with their grandparents in San Luis, it seems Fiona cannot sleep soundly, and perks up when she hears the gate squeak, as though wanting the family to always be complete by nighttime.

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I can’t believe it’s been eight years – they say that’s 56 years in dog time. I don’t see her as a dog though; she is more like a daughter, a member of our family, a friend. I wonder – if given the chance – what she has to say about her 56 years with us so far. I wonder what she would be posting in her Facebook account (LOL). It’s not easy, it’s not all good…but we love her and look forward to more years with her. Happy 8th birthday, Fionamik. Mom loves you. We all do. (serendipity.couch@gmail.com)