Finally, one of my childhood dreams has come true.

Presenting...

my new pet...

pandaaaaaa!

Ain't it ever so cute? I luv it!!! It's so small it can stand on my hand and look at me with those adorable bead eyes. Heeheehee... It now stands on my office desk and watches me while I work.

I'm still trying to think of a name, though... I started looking into Japanese names, but I considered using Chinese for this little one since it did come from Beijing. So far the possibilities are:

Xiao xiao - means "small"
Su Lin - means "a little bit from something cute". Also the name of a panda in San Diego.

Or simply Panda. Go with simple but effective. LOL!

Any suggestions? :)

//EDIT
He now has a name! The suggestions that came in were:
Bruno, Bantay, George, Kot (as in Pandakot), Kekok (as in Pandakekok), K (as in PANDAk), Zebra (kasi black and white), Zhebra (kasi Pilipino, so may 'h' na siningit kung saan), Penda, and Mangix (hindi ko alam kung saan galing to).

But the winning name suggestion is: Coco, as in Panda Coco. Some might get the pun, others might not, but either way, it sounds...fitting...for some reason. It doesn't have any deep meaning, which is strange for me, the one who always picks names for their meanings. Hehe.

The other name that I got a kick out of was the Kekok suggestion, but I will not name my panda that. I allowed people to use that nickname for Coco, though.

Many thanks to my Plurk friends who gave me the suggestions!

Friday, November 30, 2007

Coffee

No, not the drink.

Coffee is my dog, and has been for nearly twelve years.

Until today.

Read full post...Way back in February 5, 1996 (yup, I remembered his birthday) our then family dog gave birth to a cute litter of five puppies. I selected the chubby brown one because (1) he's male so he won't give birth to another litter which makes life easier for me and (2) he's was just too cute!

[Just in case you're wondering: we gave away the rest of the puppies, and the mom we brought to my grandmother's house]

When he started to walk, Kuya Tim and I loved playing with him. What we'd do is stand at the opposite sides of the garage and take turns calling him. We were basically making him exercise his legs, plus we were making him get used to his name... AND we loved to watch him walk. I mean, come on! It was a round, chubby little puppy walking awkwardly... He was so adorable.

And then when I trained him to behave outside the house. I walked with him for a few meters outside our house everyday. I didn't put him on a leash to communicate trust, and he walked beside me the whole time. One day I decided to let him go out on his own. I opened the gate for him and waited. Coffee stood by the opened gate, looked out, looked up at me... looked out again, and looked at me again.

He wouldn't leave without me. Argh. It was so endearing I nearly cried.

Well, yeah, eventually he got used to going out on his own, and he got to that stage where he loved to play tricks on me. I would open the gate to call him home, and then he would run towards me, and then he would suddenly change direction to run somewhere else.

We had his tail cut down to one inch when he was a month old. That earned him subdivision-wide fame. Our neighbors' kids actually asked me many times if they could borrow my dog and play with him in their house.

We trained him to stay in the garage and not inside the house. Inside the house was baaaaad for doggies. So he stayed outside. If for some reason I took him inside the house he would stiffen and look around all panicky as if he was thinking "What the heck am I doing in here?" and then, at the soonest possible time, make his way back outside.

When we had our house renovated, he made friends with the carpenters. The first time, he played with them. Several years later when he had our house renovated again, he played Supervisor. He would go inside the house, look over the work, patrol the rooms, and station himself at the door. I kid you not. And he even escorted my brother to his trips to the hardware store.

He learned to behave himself inside the house during that time, and familiarized himself with the house, as well. Since then, we would let him come in and out of the house as he pleased.

He also learned how to knock on our gate.

He ate Noche Buena with us last Christmas. Even though he was right there sitting beside our table, he didn't jump on us or bug us to give him food. He just stayed there and waited because he knew he'd get his turn.

Kuya Ace called him a "LionWolfDog" Because his fur stuck out near his face like a lion's mane, but from the sideways and by the way he stood, he looked like a wolf. But, of course, he was a dog.

When there was a fire in our neighborhood, Coffee was the one who stayed with me and sat with me as the panic subsided.

He became a gourmet mutt when my brother went to culinary school.

Whenever he sees people talking, he would situate himself between those people, look from one person to the other as if he understood them, and then sit comfortably between those people. We call it "nag-carpet" (making himself a carpet/rug).

He knew our car's voice. When my dad would come home, he would bark at me as if to say "Hurry up!!!" and even beat me to the gate.

When I left the house today, he was supervising the painters who were cleaning our fence. When he saw me, he went towards me and then stretched at my feet (that's his weird way of showing that he wanted us to pat his head or something). So I patted his head and ruffled his fur as I stepped out.

Two hours later, he got hit by a car. Well... not really a car. They said it was a small truck. My dad didn't see it happen, though. Coffee didn't have any wounds or anything. He didn't bleed. My dad tried to revive him. Coffee breathed three times, and then he left.

When I heard the news, I was at Sara's place. I was actually about to go home (sorta...but Sara invited me to stay for lunch). I decided that I didn't want to go home and see him so lifeless. I wanted to remember him as he was when I last saw him. Maybe it was selfish of me, but... yeah. I wasn't there when my dad buried him.

Coffee was smart, friendly, cuddly, strong... and one heck of a good-looking dog, especially for a mutt. I was there when he was born, and I raised him.

And now he's gone.

He died in the battlefield. He was a funny old dog, he lived a long life, and he left us with great memories.

Love ya, Coffee. You had a great run.