I consider myself a dog person, and one memorable dog I had before was Trixie. She was originally named by my auntie Annie as Patrixia Procorpia - "Trixie" for short. She was the offspring of my auntie Nina's spaniel Lady and my auntie Rissa's Japanese spitz White Fang, so you'd imagine a short blond dog with white whiskers on her ears.
Trixie was a faithful dog. Throughout high school, she would sleep with me in bed. I didn't really mind the dog hairs, but I had to be sure to bathe her before bedtime. I was lonely in high school. Trixie kept me company. There were times I would come home in tears, I would lock myself up in my bedroom and blast Miss Saigon on my earphones. Trixie would lay down her paws on my chest, seemingly saying "it'll be alright, I'm here..." Trixie was my faithful dog.
When I went off to college in Laguna, I had to leave home and board with a family. I would come home on weekends and Trixie would be all excited to see me. Because of the demands of college life, I would come home less and less.
I remember being the only one in our block to have a cellphone at that time - that big radio-like receiver with the long antennae. It was using that phone that my dad called me one time. My mom told him to be direct and to keep his message short, so he said "Helen, I need your blood!" - what a shock that was, so I dropped everything and hurried home. It turned out my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer and needed blood transfusion for severe anemia. Even Trixie seemed depressed. She was no longer trailing behind me, but was following dad wherever he went. Nine months after diagnosis, my dad died quietly in the master bedroom of our house. Everything seemed pretty quiet at home after that. Everybody felt at peace that dad was no longer in any pain.
However, Trixie would not be consoled. She kept staying in the garden outside the window of dad's room. She kept digging among the plants until she made for herself a comfortable nook of earth. It was about two weeks after dad's funeral that I found Trixie there, in perpetual slumber. Trixie had found a way to follow after my dad. Trixie had become my dad's pet dog.
Helen Madamba, dog lover. In remembrance of Trixie.
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