DOG EATERS

DOG EATERS
23 JULY 2009, THURSDAY
(WARNING: CAN CAUSE LOSS OF APPETITE)

Yesterday, as I was walking toward my boarding house, a familiar smell assaulted my olfactory. Burning flesh. True to the memories it conjured, dead carcass of a dog was hanged on the wall of a ruined house. A man was inspecting it for parts that may not yet be well burned by the blue flame sprouting from his torch. Another man was waiting on him with a knife, perhaps to scrap the dog’s hair. A couple of middle-age men were sitting, and I could tell from the glint of their eyes that they were salivating for their about-to-be-served "pulutan"---the dog.

First, I am not a PETA fan, and I do not subscribe to the idea that animals have rights. But I am well aware of the obligation of humans to look after their welfare; after all, we cause the destruction of their natural habitat 99 out of 100 times. Some animals are meant to be eaten, and are raised for that purpose, like pigs (other from being eaten, I don’t know what other purpose they serve in our world). However, some are not meant to be eaten unless there’s scarcity of food or if it is a cultural thing.

I can not completely reconcile the fact that Filipinos had dogs domesticated in their abodes and the fact that some of us are eating them. Definitely, it’s not a cultural thing, or is it? You love dogs, you feed them because they are loyal, and they give you unconditional love. They guard your houses. And then, out of need of a "pulutan", you kill them, cook them, and serve them to your friends. If your practice goes by that routine, don’t even name your dog.

YOUR NEXT MEAL. Rare, medium-rare, or well-cooked?
Your maid without remorse relays the news to your neighbor's maid: "Kinatay na namin si Snow White, kasi birthday ni Kuya (More likely Kuya is a police! or one of his visitors is!). Mabait pa naman si Snow White, lagi niya akong sinasalubong tuwing paparating ako galing sa palingki. Pero, masarap pala ang aso no,. Gumuguhit. Ang init sa katawan." Right.

When I was in high school, I witnessed some of my cousins kill an old dog, because it’s old already. They put it a sack and repeatedly hit it in the head ( I did not exactly know where the "dos-por-dos" landed but it’s more dramatic if it hit the head). So my aunt’s dog while my aunt watch was literally being massacred by a group of drunkards (who were not yet drunk, by the way) who happens to be my cousins and their very friendly friends. Now, the dog was carried to the “sampalukan” (where two giant Sampaloc trees used to be, and where now, my uncle’s cottage stands) to be cooked. They made a bonfire, and threw in the dog. A few minutes later, I witness a burning dog running around like torch from Fantastic Four. The dog was not killed by the blows, but by the fire. It was traumatic, and every time I hear of dogs butchered this memory is conjured in my mind.

The odor polluted the air, and I was a bit flushed by the sight of drunkards gathering around the dog. I went to the store run by my landlord. I bought choco-nuts and a choc-bar (I eat chocolates whenever I feel down, and the butchered dog was a downer, that I didn’t even have an erection while perusing Playboy, just kidding)

“Amah, kumakain ka ba ng aso?”
“Hindi. Ikaw kumakain ka ba ng aso?”
“Hindi.” I was glad to find a kindred spirit.

Then, a two men with bloated bellies, one in white sando and the other in gray shirt who just returned a Matador brandy and exchanged it for Emperador with my landlord had this conversation within my hearing.

“Oh, aga-aga inom na agad ah” greeted the man in white sando. “Mamaya, lasing ka naman. Kumain ka na ba?
“Hindi pa nga eh.”

I have an idea what his next meal is, I stormed toward my room and went to sleep (didn’t sleep immediately really, but had a talk with my laundrywoman and arranged that she do my laundry today. Then, I slept.)