SST: Of Neighbors and Dogs

August 23, 2010.

 “Love thy neighbors.” The dog is a black rottweiller, big. And he smells. Ugh. Being a Sunday, I chanced upon Larry, the local busybody, buying his cigarette sticks from the store. And he informed me that the dog was in residence in the empty unit (block 15) next to ours (block14) for several days already. Drat! Apparently, Rada, the dog’s owner left the dog there for some reason. I have been complaining about the smell, not knowing that it’s coming right there in the front terrace of the vacant unit beside ours. So it was why passersby covered their noses as they passed by our sari sari store. The unit belongs to the Aquino couple, retired employees, who bought the unit and rents it out. However, the place was only rented a few times, in fact the place was lucky to have tenants for more than a month. But this is another story.

Ah, neighbors. There are good neighbors and there are bad neighbors. It’s in you if you are a good one or a bad one.  

The neighbors who live across the street are dog people, dogs are their business. In fact, they own and operate a dog and cat clinic sa bayan, but they also rented the unit beside us, and turned it into an extension dog and animal clinic for several months. It was okey at first, because it was comforting to know that there are neighbors in that particular side. Medyo masaya, especially if they’re keeping vigil on a dog patient. They stayed for nine months. The unit's tenants usually stayed two months max. They closed shop, right after Allan, Jonna, and the two vets left one after the other. But not before leaving behind a white sickly dog, whose presence came to my notice only when our store customers pointed to its smelly existence right next to the store. That was the first time… I lost no time texting Doc P regarding my complaint ---and the good Doc P promptly transferred the dog to a kennel in their house, yes they had several empty dog kennels in their basement/warehouse. He cleaned the mess, but the smell still lingers. . .

Back to the rottweiler, I asked Bong, the unit’s caretaker, to do something about my complaint regarding the dog but he only passed the buck to me. “Ikaw na lang, Te,” he said, “they’ll listen to you.” Aside from that he said that it’s me who’s directly affected by the smell. Larry, ever the helpful one, advised me to go to the barangay with my complaint, but I don’t have the time and inclination to go to the trouble. I had to do it ---when I saw Jeff on their second floor terrace, I pointed to him the dog.  No finesse, but it worked. He immediately came downstairs with his friend Jeepoy who took the dog outside the house and tied it in front of their bodega. Jeff cleaned the smelly mess, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But when it rained that night, they put the dog back inside the unit.

The next day being a Monday, I watched as students going to the nearby school passed by our store in groups. I was home alone, so I had my fill of the dog smell the whole day. Late in the afternoon while watching the passersbyl, I saw how a child and her yaya almost jumped out of their skin followed by a loud growling. The child and her yaya, not knowing there was a dog, walked too near the terrace and gotten the surprise of their lives when the dog growled and bared his long fangs between the grills. Luckily, there was no oncoming vehicle especially the reckless tricycles or they could have gotten run down. Coming from the school and going up the road, one cannot see the dog lying in the terrace near the grills. That night, I never got a chance to talk to Jeff, or any from Doc P’s  regarding the matter. Nor the next morning. . .

Before I left for work, I hit upon an idea... I borrowed a big pot of greenery from Manang Cleo, another neighbor, while the tricycle driver, who stopped to give me a ride, got a wooden bench from another neighbor, and placed both across the two units’ boundary. Manang said “sasagasaan lang nila  yan, makita mo. . .” Not to be deterred, I also put a cardboard sign saying, “Mag-ingat sa . . . ASO” complete with an arrow pointing to the unit next to us. Maybe, they'll get the hint. And those passing by will not be caught unawares by the big dog again.

When I came home that evening, nothing seemed to change--the sign, the bench, and the potted plant were still where I left them. But Doc P's van was already parked in its usual spot. I stayed late hoping that someone from their end would come and talk to me. . .

What surprised me the next morning was the cleaning frenzy by my neighbors. They even gave Beauty (the dog tied in front of their gate) and another small dog they have in the kennel inside the bodega a bath. Amazing,  ulanin at arawin si Beauty in front of their gate but they just let the dog there. Somehow may nangyari. . . I patiently waited for Doc P before they left for their clinic in town. Yes, I think he knew already what I'm going to complain, for he amiably told me that he didn’t know about the dog, that it’s not one of their patients, and that Rada had already taken the dog home. Hah!

Did my strategy worked? Somehow, I had this feeling that they were just waiting if magrereklamo ako. The dog has been staying there for several days already, but they acted as if nothing’s wrong. They live across the street, hence, they're not affected by the smell. But for me, the smell still lingers on. . .

I'd like to mention that I have nothing against dogs, or any pet in particular. But if you have one , you have to be responsible for them.

Have I mentioned what happened to the potted plant? Unfortunately, the pot didn't escaped the wheels of the Pajero driven by Caloy, one of Doc P's two sons. If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, and promptly mentioned the fact to Doc P, they won’t own to the deed. Yes, he’ll replace the pot, but he said that some two months ago to this day. . . I think I'll send him a note this time, along with the remaining balance of their credit from the store. Ho ho ho

SST: sari sari tales

SARI SARI TALES was brought about by my curiosity... hearing about so much about blogs, i thought of creating one; my wanting to share . . . my thoughts, my experiences. So here it is.

I am not a professional writer, but my former boss actually said that i can write fairly well. Coming from her, it was rather inspiring. She was with Women's Journal as ed in chief for more than 10 years, and she should know better, di ba? Actually, Ka Romy (my personal astrologer) said that writing is really in my 2010 solar return. Anyway, SARI SARI TALES are mostly about personalities I've met, places, events I've been invited to, etc.. .

Please bear with me, I'm just a newbie in this kind of thing. But i sure hope you'll enjoy reading SARI SARI TALES! God loves us all!!!!

swayne n. cunanan

SST: Goodbye, Fur

My first attempt . . .I wrote this last August 23, 2010, a day after Fur died.


“Death comes like a Thief in the Night”. He died last night after several days in the local hospital. His grieving mother and his father, whose tears fell unheedingly, stood side by side, as they watched the doctors and the nurses trying their best to revive their eldest son. Both of them thinking that it was too soon. He was only 26.

Although he was the eldest of five children, Fur grew up in the care of his paternal grandmother, Mamang , in Tarlac. Mamang, who loved him dearly as if Fur was her own son, was so proud of him. He was intelligent, he was an achiever. . . His parents and siblings, who live in Dasmarinas, Cavite, were proud of him, too.

I don’t know him too well, but I remember Fur, to be reserved, very courteous, a loner. . . I only knew his real name when I asked his brother Louie, the spelling of his name. You see, I knew him as Fer. Without being told, I knew somehow that he's different. You see, in my line of work, I meet different kinds of showbiz people --- make-up artists, PAs, talent managers, handlers, fashion designers, and entertainment writers.

He used to go to our sari-sari store to buy cigarettes or buy his daily autoload. Until the end it was a standing joke between us that I cannot remember the last 4-digits of his cell number. “Okey lang po,” was what he used to say to me with a smile, maybe in deference to my age, my difficulty in remembering names and numbers. Sometimes he bought a bottle of soft drinks, which he drank while sitting in front of the store, smoking his cigarette and texting.

I didn't see him for several months, maybe because my work in Makati takes me away from the house the whole day, coming home late in the evening. The next time I saw him he was thinner, and looked like he’d just recovered from a bout of flu.That by looking at him whenever he came to buy his autoload, I thought that maybe, there is something wrong with his lungs. He stopped smoking, he told me. His shoulders were stooped, just like those who suffer from asthma. And I was not completely wrong. . .

Ironically, Fur worked as a Clinical Instructor in a well-known hospital in Makati, while studying his Masterals. Sir Serquinia, as he liked to be called, would be sorely missed by his former students. One of his former students even posted in his website his fond memories of her departed instructor.

The cause of Fur’s death was pleural effusion caused by pneumonia. In medical terms, pleural effusion is the collection of fluid in the space between the two linings (pleura) of the lung, and too much fluid impairs the ability of the lung to expand and move. Suffice it to say, further treatment was too late. He chose to suffer quietly---maybe he didn’t want his loved ones to suffer, too. He breathed his last with a smile on his lips, after hearing his father’s loving words of caring and forgiveness.

So long Fur, go in peace.