6. The Puppy

This morning the radio talk show were about four men being sentenced to thirty days in jail for killing and eating a dog.  Many viewers called in airing their views.  You could tell they were dog lovers from their comments: “How could they do this to a dog? Dogs are men’s best friends!  These men should spend the rest of their lives in jail!”  

This reminded me of my first puppy when I was around six years old.  This puppy meant a lot to me and after you read my story you will agree that I am not exaggerating when I say my puppy has become a part of me. 

I was returning from school one evening in September (I was attending PM sessions in primary one), and was opening the door when I heard “Yap! Yap!….Yap!” and saw a little puppy scampering down the corridor, slipping and sliding on the cement floor.  It’s got fluffy, light brown fur; a pointed tail that curled into a loop; a short snout that was dark around the mouth that was wide-open with a pinkish tongue hanging out.  Its eyes that were focusing on mine were small and almond-shaped.  It might very well be a common, local breed of checkered pedigree, but it was the cutest puppy I had ever come across.   

I knelt on my knees and tried to touch it.  It licked my hand as I would with a lollipop and that tickled.  I lifted it on his hind legs and found to my satisfaction that it was indeed a boy puppy.  I probably wouldn’t like a girl puppy.  (If you wonder why I would prefer a boy puppy, please refer to my previous story - “The Young Misogynist”.) 

“I see you two have met,” my mom called out as she walked toward us.  “It’s going to be your puppy, Ah Yuen.  How would you like to call it?” 

“Lucky, mom.  Let’s call it Lucky!”  Almost everyone called their dogs “Lucky” in those days.  If you yelled “Lucky!” loudly at a street corner, half of the dogs in the neighborhood would come to you!   

Lucky and I became close friends, inseparable one might say.  As schoolwork was not my top priority and my parents were not overly fixated with their child’s schoolwork as parents are nowadays, I spent all my time after school with Lucky.  I took care of its meals.  I walked it at least twice a day.  I gave it baths albeit not as frequent as I should because Lucky didn’t like bathing too much…a trait that it shared with its young master!  It was full of energy and so was I.  We played in the flat the entire time running up and down the corridor.  Mom seemed happy with the situation because while I was busy with Lucky I would be less likely to get into mischief of my own.

Lucky was growing fast (much faster than I was) because it was a ferocious eater.  No matter how much I put into its bowl, it would finish in seconds and it always wanted more.   In just a few months it grew into a fairly good-size dog.   

One day I overheard dad talking to one of my older brothers about planning a winter feast.  I only heard bits and pieces of their conversation, but I heard that we were going to invite all the other tenants on our flat.  It must be some special occasion, I reckoned.  Children in those days hardly had enough to eat, so the news of an upcoming feast was welcome with anticipation. 

One evening in December I was returning home from school.  I was opening the door and was surprised that I didn’t hear Lucky and it was not waiting at the door as it would every time when I came home.  “Lucky!...Lucky!”  I called.  No response.  That’s odd.  Maybe one of my brothers took him for a walk.  I saw mom in the kitchen, so I headed to the kitchen and called out: “Where’s Lucky, mom?”   

“Your daddy took it out, son,” she replied without turning her head.  She seemed very busy preparing for the feast.  I though best not to bother her.  I was a bit tired from the physical education session at school that afternoon, so I decided to take a catnap before dinner.  I must have overslept because by the time I woke up it was very dark and the flat was full of people.  Everyone who lived on the flat was present.  They all gathered around a big table that was set up in the common area.  I walked to the crowd at the table. 

“Son, you woke up at last!  Come sit next to me,” my mom said.  I sat down next to her.  “Where’s Lucky, mom?”   

“Lucky is gone.” 

“What do you mean ‘gone’, mom?” 

“Lucky is no longer with us,” dad said, looking at me. 

I was not a dumb kid.  As a matter of fact, I was considered to be pretty smart for my age.  The way that everyone at the table was looking at me at that moment told me the worst had indeed happened to Lucky, and the large pot at the middle of the table, containing what looked like lamb stew (my favorite dish) with a strong ginger smell provided the proof that I needed.  

“You killed my puppy! You cooked Lucky!  You murderers…I wish you all choke to death!”   I ran from the table, pushing and shoving everyone in my way, but I was too little to cause anyone any harm.  That was too bad because I really wanted to cause some serious damage to the people at the table…they all deserved to die!   

I ran to bed without any dinner because I lost my appetite.  I was crying and plotting for what I should do to avenge Lucky’s death.   Maybe I could set fire to the flat…they deserved to go up in smoke.  Maybe I should get an axe and chopped them into pieces and fed them to the goldfish.  Maybe… 

All that crying and plotting must have gotten me tired for I soon felt asleep.  I dreamt about Lucky in doggie heaven.  It was as big as a horse, and it was chasing and biting everyone whom I saw at the table that night.  That made me feel very nice inside.  I was cheering it on, throwing my arms around when I suddenly woke up from my nightmarish dream. 

“Good morning, son – would you like some breakfast?” my mom said when she saw me getting out of bed, “you skipped dinner last night.”

“No, mom - I’m never going to eat anything again! Not ever!”   

“Okay, son – but remember, you‘re a little boy and if you want to grow up, you’ll have to eat.”

“No, I’m going to starve myself to death, and it’s all your fault!”  

I decided that a hunger strike would be a more realistic option compared to committing arson or chopping people into pieces.  I kept my promise: I didn’t have any breakfast.  But by lunchtime I was so hungry I was ready to eat anything when mom walked to me with a bowl in her hand.  

“Son, I understand how you must have felt.  I’d like you to know that Lucky was slaughtered in a humane way…it didn’t suffer at all.”

“You’re all murderers!  I’ll starve myself to death!”  I continued with my threat. 

“I’ve saved a few pieces for you.  I think you might be curious and would like to give it a try.”  

She showed me the contents of the bowl.  It looked like lamb stew and smelled like lamb stew (my favorite dish - in case you’ve forgot I said earlier.)  I put a piece in my mouth.  Perhaps because I was very hungry, it tasted even better than lamb stew!  I emptied the bowl in record time!  And that’s why I said at the beginning that Lucky has become a permanent part of me. 

Lucky was my first puppy as well as my last because while we had a few other dogs after Lucky, it was my younger brother who took care of them.  My family didn’t slaughter any dogs after Lucky although we did purchase and consume dog meat for a few years and then we stopped.  Lamb tasted just as good and without the guilt! 

-To be continued-