Fluke, Lucky & a bunch of really evil people...

While talking a casual walk to the corner with the wifey, we were sort of greeted by a kind, kempt Pomeranian who looked at us as though we the Anti-Christ with our grinning mugs. She proceeded to bark at us, then ran out to the other direction. Only to be promptly faced by a big street mutt who either wanted to pick on her or pick her into pieces.

Spunky Pomeranian stops dead on her tracks, then turns and runs back to us. Probably assuming we were the lesser evil.

That’s how we found and met Lucky.

As toy dogs go, Lucky’s arrival was relatively uneventful. She wasn’t much for grabbing attention with tricks and/or excessive noise. She was just cute and cuddly enough that people wanted to grab her. She was obviously well-maintained, clean, smelled great for a dog one finds lost in the streets, and she was disciplined enough that she didn’t sleep in the bed with us.

But she always barked and made a ruckus whenever we had a masseuse over. She ate like no tomorrow, and as of yesterday was joyfully overweight to the point of difficulty in walking.

* * * * * *

"...the undeniable in-your-face reminder that there are truly bad people who are running around out in this is sad, tired world..."

He was a gift to my then thinly disguised “friend,” who eventually became what was the sum and byproduct of Hitler, Idi Amin and the Ayatollah… a.k.a. my wife.

Fluke relished running, and had often led us to tiring chases up to eight blocks at a time. Playful and powerful, Fluke was a proud creature. A handsome son of the great champion Labrador Retriever known as “Cooper.” Of course, all that was sort of for naught since almost everyone proceeded to neuter every male dog. So from our perspective the supposed greatness was ending right there.

But it was a greatness that gave us 10 years of a great dog who was smart, funny, friendly, and died -defending our home.

* * * * * *

Yep, you read that right. Died. And yes, those things about Lucky are all also in the past tense.
Early morning today, June 6, 2009, at around 4 a.m., our home in Dominican Hills in Baguio City was broken into, where a band of reportedly nine would-be robbers threw poisoned food to cruelly quiet two of our four-legged children.

Of course, anyone who knows us knows that we've lost many dogs before. But none under these rather violent circumstances. None in such an evil and relentless way.

Truly a sad day. Another of those days when shit one sees on the evening news comes to life in full grainy detail. And it is you who cannot look into the imaginary cameras inadvertently held up by helpful family members, as you grieve not only for the loss of your four-legged wards, and feeling violated, but inwardly cry in frustration at your helplessness, and the undeniable in-your-face reminder that there are truly bad people who are running around out in this is sad, tired world.

The wifey and I are left sitting and staring out our window in QC, jumping between thoughts of how we’re fortunate that we weren’t there when it happened, and feeling guilty with the possibility that it wouldn’t have happened if we were there in the first place.

And for someone who has boasted, as well as lived, without showing what most people classify as fear, to have something like this happen in your own personal space that one shares with one’s wife and child (along with non-human children), makes one rethink what fear really is.

See, we do not fear the insanity of other people caused by desperation, we pity that. We do not fear something we can stare into with one’s eyes while they stare back. We do not fear physical pain.

We will fear losing the ones we care for. We fear what our lives will become should they no longer be in it. When we love what our lives have become, we fear any possibility that it will change for the worse, and that such an incidence will be beyond our control.

So I guess I have not truly been without fear for quite some time.
And days like this one rudely reawaken me to that reality.

* * * * * *

To Fluke and Lucky… wish we had one more walk together. Sorry we weren’t there. No more excuses.

‘Catch you guys (much) later.