Of Pets and Pests

We have one Siamese cat, named Yuni, courtesy of my sister. She bought the cat as a companion and stress-absorber for her husband. After spending years in Cebu, they decided to come home, when learned they got pregnant. They reckoned it is important to be around family when she gives birth. Yes, we Filipinos savor the closeness of family at times of uncertainty. And obviously they need all the support they can get. So, they moved back here bringing their beloved cat.

Coming from a country where nearly seventy five percent of the population live below the poverty line, I find it a little unnerving feeding a cat 300 peso cat food. Since, it did not come from my own pocket, fine by me. Yuni was also fed canned fish like tuna and her favorite salmon. Mind you, these are the ones you buy from the supermarket not under pet food section. That’s the unnerving part actually. I used to eat and love that same brand for Pete’s sake! It was my diet food together with crackers and coffee. I particularly loved it sautéed with garlic and onions and paired with steaming garlic rice. Now, my sweet life is ruined because of Yuni, and I’m sticking to the trusty pan de sal.

I actually tried eating canned tuna months before my sister gave birth, but, after being teased of eating “cat food”, I stopped altogether.

Yuni the cat, was immediately pregnant when she came to us (we have three male “pusakal” or to be politically correct “puspin” coming regularly to the house for free food/leftovers). They were named, Olen, Daddy Cat & Grandpa Cat. Until now we couldn’t pinpoint who the father was. After threemonths, she gave birth to five “puspin” all tiger-furred, looking very much like our three regular visitors. But for the purpose of giving Yuni’s kittens the dignity of having a father we pinpointed Olen as the culprit. They were named Saturn, Mercury, Juno, Phobos & Moon.

At about the same time of Yuni’s delivery, my sister also gave birth. So the pampering that Yuni was accustomed to began to diminish and totally evaporate. While my sister got busy with motherhood, her Siamese cat, is also getting used to eating, leftovers. Before, she waits until her food is poured on her bowl. Now, she follows you around and meows until she is fed. Well, she has five kittens draining the milk out of her, no wonder she eats a lot nowadays.

Having six cats is wreaking havoc in our house. They jump into your plate when you try to eat. They prance and jump around the sofa to my mother’s exasperation. Still, they act so adorable and that’s the only thing preventing us from giving them up for adoption with neighbors and whoever is willing.

Sometime after the Yuni gave birth, my mother adopted a stray dog and kept him inside a kennel (actually an empty rooster cage). She religiously fed it for two weeks without naming it. So I asked her to name the stray, lest we’ll grow to love it we will have a difficulty on which to call it. We pondered on “brownie”, “Ollie”, “odie”. To no avail, no one is too keen on those names apparently. Days went past and still no name. Until one day, I said, we need to name him already and since we cannot decide on a name, so I christened him “Nameless”.
Nameless stayed in the cage until my mother grew tired of him. After which, she opened the cage and let the stray go with the pack of neighborhood strays. (I swear they need to be contained, their brood is growing).

Two weeks ago I brought home a one-sixteenth -breed Doberman. With emphasis on the one-sixteenth. For no other reason that I’ve grown to love the dog, its mother having owned by my boss. Throwing in a hurricane into the existing havoc. So the new dog was welcomed with ohhs and ahhs.

So we have a dog, and we named him Mr. Bean, after much wrangling as to what name we call him, D suggested we name him, “Rover F. Fobo” complete with middle initial. We said, that’s too long, and why not call it “Bean” or “Mr. Bean” instead? He wouldn’t budge, so after almost a minute of rover-mr. bean-rover-mr. bean, D agreed on one condition, that we name it, “Mr. Bean the Destroyer”. Gone are the days where we name pets with such ease as “hanky”, “spanky”, “spot” & “whitey”. Mother complained that the name is so long and why not call the dog, “Jack”. I said that’s too generic, like calling him the new “Mr. 24”, or Jack the Ripper. Anyway, I reasoned if she gets angry with the dog, she can just call it “Bentot” for short.

We have since given away the two kittens, which leave us with four cats and a dog. Not to mention the cavalcade of strays (dogs and cats) that regularly visits the house for leftovers.