Pets

I went to Cartimar Market this afternoon to buy something for a research project. I was with Casti Castillo. Carlo de Guzman willingly dragged himself with us because he didn't want to go home yet, and he knew the place quite well, having been there a couple of times. We were pleasantly surpised that the guy knew how to commute.

I'm kidding, I'm kidding, Carlo!

The rain that afternoon was torrential, but we made good use of time laughing inside the jeepney while the humidity was rising.

When we finally got to Pasay, the pavement was soaked, and my shoes, which were designed to have holes in the soles for circulation, aggravated the discomfort. The water was seeping through. It was a horrible feeling, and the idea that I could get Leptospirosis anytime didn't go away. I was in Manila, after all, a land teeming with infectious microorganisms.

But we had our errands: buy feeds and sawdust for our mice, or else Lennie Chua would happily kill us. It was my first time in Cartimar, and there were so many animals, birds particularly, that I immediately thought of my childhood friend Nonoy Jamison who used to have lovebirds in their backyard. When I last visited their house, the birds weren't there anymore.

While we were looking for the best deals, I saw a lot of dogs, too, most of them in cages. Now I'm not really a fan of canines: I got bitten thrice. Thrice. Who gets bitten thrice, right? Two of these incidences were because my wretched brothers either pushed me or talked me into getting inside a neighbor's house. Thankfully, though, none of those beasts were rabid—the reason why I'm still alive to this day.

Those dogs I saw looked depressed and sleepy, a stark contrast to David, our family Japanese spitz (although he has some askal blood in him, I'd imagine), who to this day remains the happiest, friendliest, and stupidest canine in the planet I know. You hand him a piece of food, and he'll go sniffing elsewhere.



I was surprised with Casti's fascination with the fish. Apparently they have a huge pond and aquarium at home. His brother was asthmatic, so furry animals were a no-no. This led his family to shift the interest to ichthylogical pursuits instead. I have a feeling he'll be coming back to Cartimar to buy that arwana.

The closest things I got to having an aquatic pet was a turtle I bought with my meager allowance when I was in grade school. I wanted to think he was French, so I called him Claude. I placed him on a palanggana which I filled with water and decorated with pebbles. I put mollies and gold fish to give Claude some company. I was miserable because he kept eating them. I eventually got tired of him. Then, on a rainy day, he just crawled out on me. Sometimes I wonder if he's still alive.

They say pets reflect the qualities of their owner. Judging from David and Claude, I'm probably happy, friendly, and stupid—and I like to walk out on people on rainy days.