A Bulldog Story (Hours Before Death)

Tuesday. 9:30 p.m. I opened our housegate to let myself in. I was welcomed amidst loud barks by our two dogs, Whitey (who happens to be a beige mongrel-japanese spitz mix) and Bulldog (who happens to be a mongrel). Don't ask me how they got their names or who gave it to them. I named them other names, but it seems that our house help's monickers stuck to the dogs' brains. Hence, they wouldn't respond to other names but those.

10:15 p.m. My father arrived. My brother opened the gate to let my father in. I then heard him call me to go outside and see Bulldog. Apparently, he couldn't lift his lower body and all he could do was twist and turn using his front legs. He didn't meet an accident with a vehicle again, did he? Apparently not. And then he was urinating all around -- and boy, that's one heck of a urine load. It was like he excreted all of the fluids in his body. What were we to do? We don't know any vet that was open at that time of night. He was definitely dying. First time I see dog death before my very eyes.

Wednesday. 2:30 a.m. Our driver couldn't sleep because he was hearing strange things in the garage. When he went out to see what it was, it was Bulldog, banging his head on our van. Apparently, he was able to find a way to get fro one place to another using his front legs. For some strange reason, I really don't know why. Insanity before death? Well, I didn't actually witness this. Just second hand information. But then again, what could have led to these events? Only God knows.

6:45 a.m. I saw Bulldog sprawled on the garage floor. This is not the same garage, mind you. It is separated by two flights of stairs and a wide veranda. It still baffles me how he could have travelled considering his situation. Anyway, he was not moving, his eyes were directed towards the heavens, and he was breathing heavily. He was definitely dying. Even seeing the vet would prove futile. So we just let him cherish his tragedy on his own sweet time.

5:00 p.m. I got news that Bulldog died. I felt sad, coz I was always the last one to arrive home. These two dogs would always welcome me with their barks and their wagging tails, jump and reach for my hand all the time. They were intelligent dogs who knew how to use the door's banger (those round things you use to knock -- or bang -- depending on how you actually use it). They were silly ones who would crawl on dry soil after a cold bath. They always growled at each other whenever I'm around them both, as if both were struggling for my attention. It just wouldn't be the same without one of them. I used to talk with Bulldog, scolding him every night for not following my instructions. I used to tell him what he should not do to prevent catching some dog diseases. But you really can't teach old dogs new tricks, it seems. Or human's can't really talk to dogs no matter how much they try to. He had a skin disorder he got from a neighbor's dog. And I got real mad at him for acquiring that. Now, I have no dog to talk to but Whitey. I guess Whitey will just do for the mean time. It just won't be the same without the both of them.

Bulldog
2002-2004
Loving pet, mischievous dog, extraordinary member of our family.