New puppy students

After I lost Chi-chi, my dachshund, in April, I realized there were so many shared human-dog activities our family and friends had with our pets that people would ask where she was if she was absent. In response, people would guess from our facial expressions that Chichi had passed.

It was difficult because Chichi had a large “fan base” from restaurant food servers to pet groomers to the newspaper delivery men, and, of course, the students in the universities I teach. Students from last semester got a memory pin and the new currently enrolled ones were promised their own at the end of this new semester.

Meanwhile, I had already gotten two new puppies—Chichi’s nephew and niece—and had their advanced graduation photos taken. Both had a particular coat which looked like a toga.

Many of the students already knew Chichi as an emotional support dog, noted for quietly sitting during class, often sleeping but paying attention in her own way.

I was conflicted about whether to get new puppies. My feeling was that no puppy could ever replace Chichi and at times, I thought she’d just make life harder for me. It was tough enough keeping myself from tearing up, but then I did notice that after her death, the time she would “show” up in class did have its own effect on the class, with students somewhat calmer, almost like bringing back memories of our classes together.

Faculty and students who would pass by our classroom would pause and wave and smile at Chichi, sometimes waiting for the class to end so they could pet her, and for a growing number of people, call out her name.

In many ways, Chichi had proven the usefulness of emotional support dogs. They were not a nuisance; in fact, several times new students didn’t even realize there was a dog in class when Chichi didn’t beg for food and didn’t pee or poo in class. I don’t know if she ever could tell when a student was having a tough day, with parents, boyfriends, or girlfriends, and assorted meaningful others. Research suggests they do empathize, sharing emotions.

That was a reason why I was somewhat hesitant about getting new puppies. The older we are, the more emotional we get, and I didn’t want to take that chance, but so far I’ve been able to cope quite well. The bigger problem has been the physical coping, and just last night, I did sustain a shoulder sprain and some bruises when I tried to carry one of the new puppies to another bed. There’s often no match between four months and 74 years.

But the puppies provide their own therapies to get me to sleep or to bring down my blood pressure.

At one of our dorms in Tagaytay, we’ve started to allow pairs of dogs to sleep in the corridors, as assistant guards, so to speak.

Some time soon, I may be bringing a new, very pregnant cat over to Tagaytay. She had found a home in a pet shop but the shop owner said she could not take in so many cats. I had asked the shop owner if she was selling this particular case and she said if I wanted her, I could just take her.

The dogs and cats don’t necessarily adopt particular animals. There’s a natural bond that builds up. We have dog trainers who come in to provide clicker training, which is based on behavioral conditioning. In the past, we’ve had students who would adopt a dog or cat in their first or second year and keep them till graduation. Some boyfriends and girlfriends retained their adopted animals from college, past graduation! After they leave Tagaytay, I would sometimes run into the alumni and they’d be quick to offer news on their adoptees from college.

New school years bring in new lives, human and nonhuman.

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michael.tan@inquirer.net