He’s mine

I was a bit hesitant at first, but the moment I saw him, I knew I wanted him to be mine.

It was my grandmother’s idea. But while a part of me found it appealing, my practical side took over. We couldn’t buy a new dog. Having a new dog entails responsibility, not to mention extra expenses.

The other part of me wanted a pet. I had been searching for dogs on the Internet. Maybe having a new dog wasn’t such a bad idea. So when my grandmother read a newspaper ad selling a one-year-old, semi-full coat Chihuahua, she called the owner immediately.

When we went to see the Chihuahua, we didn’t expect to see a well-behaved dog. But when I saw him sitting quietly inside his cage, I imagined holding him in my arms. When I was given permission to touch him, I thought he would back away or bite. Instead he danced happily inside his small cage and lay down, begging to be scratched. It seemed as if he had known me for a long time. He and I connected instantly, and every bit of hesitation on my part just went away. I wanted a pet, didn’t I?

We went home with a new family member in my arms. All of us agreed to give him a new name that was more fitting for a cute, sweet dog. My grandmother wanted to name him “Jackie” but it sounded like the name of my best friend’s dog, so we shortened it to “Jack.” But I thought that the name was too common so I changed its spelling to “Jacque.”

Jacque took time to adjust to his new environment. He didn’t make a sound for a week or so. He didn’t bark or give as much as a whine. He would just follow me around the house or sit quietly under my bed and sleep. My grandmother and my mom actually thought he was mute.

He was very alert though. The smallest noise, the slightest movement would wake him up. Mom said he was trying hard to please us, to gain love and acceptance in his new home.

One night, as I watched him sleep, curled up in his cage, I gave the little guy a promise: “Our house may not be as big as your previous owner’s, but I’ll make sure that you will find a home here.” And we gave him just that.

In the first few weeks, we were extra careful with our movements—pulling chairs, closing and opening doors, and even walking. Having a small dog in the house was kind of scary especially since he liked to follow close by. One careless movement and either you or the dog or both would get hurt.

However, as days passed we got used to his presence and started to move around normally. The house grew more familiar to him as well. Once, as I was reaching for his treats in the cabinet, he finally gave an unmistakable whine. Ah … my dog is not mute, after all.

“My dog.” Saying it connotes that I am responsible for him, that I know that in my hands is a living, breathing being I have to take care of and love.

And who wouldn’t love Jacque? This small family member changed our lives. He is my grandmother’s teddy bear. She buys him stuff as if he is her grandson. He is my mom’s companion when I am in school. He is my siblings’ playmate. He is the first to greet me when I come home from school and the one I put to sleep at night. I chase him around the house when he runs off with my slippers.

When we go out, he protests by biting and tugging at my jeans. He looks at me sadly with his big, glassy eyes when I bid him goodbye. Sometimes he rests his head on my feet when he feels sleepy. He licks me as a way of saying sorry when he has done something naughty.

Jacque has a place in our home and it is hard for me to imagine life without him.

It was my grandmother’s idea. I was a bit hesitant. But the moment I saw him, I knew he should be mine.

I was right.

Ma. Socorro Carizza G. Ricarte, 21, is an AB Communication Arts graduate of the College of the Holy Spirit Manila.