The farewell speech I never made

I can be a crybaby so I did not make a speech last Friday, I wanted it to be a fun night. Sabi nga ni General Supnet, ayokong makita ako nang tropa na umiiyak. Not everyone is on multiply so, Rio, Aya, Jas, ipakita ninyo ito sa tropa.

Una sa lahat, salamat sa pagpunta nyo sa party namin ni Ronito, ibang klase yung gift, parang That's Entertainment, at may song number pa ako, kulang na lang may magsasabit ng sampaguita at si Kuya Germs.

Salamat lalo sa mga old timers na pumunta, I'm one of you now. Raffy, Wacqs, Aisa, Kane. Salamat kay Day sa cake. Salamat kay Ronron, ang silent partner ng kasiyahan.

Salamat sa mga tumawid, Sisel, Thea, Miami. Salamat sa mga nanggaling ng malayo at nagdala ng alak at peg (read: baboy), Col. Brawner, Maj. Sagun, lalo na kay Commander Bacordo, it was unexpected sir.

Sa mga hindi pumunta (except yung mga nasa mindanao), drowing! wala pala kayo e.



To those who wrote on the card, here are my replies, in no particular order. You get what you give. (Kung kaya ninyong magsulat nang patago, kaya ko din magbasa nang patago).

Nikko -- i totally agree with the things you listed down, what can i say? we're the best. salamat sa iyo, kay Frankie, at kay Lola

Rio -- pretty girl, keep it up, when i was starting out there, an older friend told me to never lose the fire in my belly, you have the fire (tangina, nosebleed!), pag kaya mo nang manampal diyan, unahin mo si sinpogi, at imbitahin mo ko

James -- seatmate hindi lang sa opisina, kundi pati sa c-130, hummer sa sulu, at kung anu-ano pang sasakyang militar. patuloy ang pagkakaibigan, the best of luck in life and love

Aya -- quality time is not quantity time, thanks for the friendship, at sa masarap na spicy talong with minced pork

Victor -- salamat sa yo, natuto akong mag-transcribe, at mang-urot, kahit may estrella pa yan sa balikat

RSJ -- ang embodiment ng tradisyon sa dpc, whom i consider my mentor on the beat. sabi mo nga, dapat wire-caliber

Joy -- ikaw ang one of a kind, on my first day there, ikaw ang unang kumausap sa akin, tandang tanda ko pa "ikaw ba ang kasamahan ni alcuin, ahihihihihihi" tapos lahat ng pumasok sa pinto sainasabihan mo "ayan ang kasamahan ni alcuin, ahihihihihi" hanggang pumasok na si alcuin mismo, ang sabi mo lang "ahihihihihi"

Vene -- ingat sa mga bala, habulin ka nun, walang anuman yung friendster, kung gusto mo pa, gawan din kita ng facebook at multiply

Jas -- kalerky ka, bakit nahuli ang labas ng personalidad na yan, potah, basta pakisabi kay mang iggy wala nang libre sa mundo, luz valdez ako sa kanya

Ronron -- i know thing have not changed, especially sa mga kasabay natin circa 2005-2007, andiyan palagi ang cubao at kung saan man tayo dalin ng mga kumakalam na sikmura

Verlin -- god speed, kung may isang pang-gangster ang porma dyan, ikaw na yun, suspenders pa lang

K/Day -- yes, i'm sad, and some powers-that-be suck. i will watch my weight after our quiapo food trip

Alcuin -- alcuiiiiiiiiiiin, ahihihihihihi, fuckin' great man!

Cecille -- sisel, sisel, sisel, ang sarap pakinggan, ang paulu saka marven hindi masyado, miss you!

John -- konting bilis sir... dun sa second road trip natin, o e ano ngayon kung tag-ulan na?planuhin na yan. alam ko sir hindi ako mapapahiya sa yo, keep it up

Benjie -- i'm still looking for that rainbow, salmat sa suporta, kuya, lalo na nung tatanga-tanga pa akong baguhang reporter sa crame

Maj. Zagala -- see you in 2010, sir

Jay and Sengkly -- kailangan talaga, team kayo, salamat sa samahan na nagsimula sa kampanya ng nasirang raul roco, katulad ni aisa na kasam din natin dun, our paths will cross again (langya, level!)

Josh and Aimee -- bacarro's angels, now torres' angels, salamat sa mga text at in my last week, nahuli kita, josh, na nagmomonitor ng site namin, kahit iniutos sa iyo yan, salamat

Rex -- pagbutihan ang clippings, hinihintay ni CS yan, at mata sa dyaryo hindi sa cinema one

Merwin -- ang samahang pinagbuklod ng alak, bago ka sumakay ng taxi, amuyin mo muna si manong ha

Jaemie -- mare, like what i told aya, it's not how long, it's how you spent it, hindi ka lang pang-romansa, naka mini-skirt ka pa kahit malapit na gumuho gobyerno nung height ng zte at nagtago sa kampo crame ang pangulo

Wacqs -- ikaw ang patunay ng samahang dpc, kahit hindi tayo nagkasabay sa beat, naging magkaibigan tayo sa mga gimik ng tropa, isang kampay sa yo

Anthony -- wala na akong takas sa pangulo na yan, nawa'y magpakabait ka diyan sa dpc, tingin tayo ng sapatos sa getway

Jepoy -- hinihintay ka na ng pangulo sa malacanang, mestizo ka pa naman, pag sinabi ni joy na leader of the band ka, leader of the band ka

Joey -- i know that you too will excel in that House

Rene -- coming from you, it's a compliment, though i think it's too much, i'm not worthy

Solmerin -- salamat din sa mga kwnetong npa at sa pagsabay mo sa akin sa katipunan

Ibang klase ang samahang DPC, it was my second home, it was where i became a reporter. That's why it was very hard to drag my ass out the door and leave.

I really looked forward to going to work in the nearly four years that i was there. Like Nikko said, everyday is a new joke.

Mami-miss ko ang walang katapusang kwentuhan sa hapag kainan, pan de sal, jollibee, o yellow cab man ang pinagsasaluhan, basta si jimmy ang bumabangka, uki na.

Mami-miss ko ang walang katapusang asaran, ang pagtawa sa buhay pag-ibig nang may buhay pag-ibig, nakakalimutan ko ang sermon ng mga amo, ibang klase ang kababawan natin

Mami-miss ko ang pambabalahura natin sa pangalan ng may pangalan -- General Yano Gibbs, Sengaling, Mamon Tulfo, Colonel Sarah Jane Salazar, Colonel Hilario Duff. Pag ginawa ko yan sa palasyo, baka akalain nila sintu-sinto ako.

Mami-miss ko ang mga out of town trips, kahit PAF ang sagot sa sasakyan at kahit masakit sa pwet, walang katapusang picture naman, at may inuman pa sa gabi pag overnight.

Mami-miss ko ang pagtulog sa sofa (kahit sira), at sa quarters (kahit may kakaibang amoy ang kama). Pasensya na kung naghihilik minsan, tao lang, leche

It was an amazing four years. Peace out at salamat sa inyong lahat!

Joel/Jags/Jaggy/Jopel

Blood

I was stabbed in the back, and there's blood everywhere.

No more taking a cab to work

It was the lamest, most pathetic excuse. The taxi driver charged me an additional P10 even if he did not have an LTFRB sticker. I looked for the sticker. He said he did not put it on his windshield yet because it was raining.

Do I look like I'm stupid? The sticker goes on the interior, not the exterior side of the windshield. I banged the door as I got down and said: "Wala ka na ngang sticker, madaya pa metro mo." Which was true because based on a year's worth of taxi rides from Katipunan to Camp Aguinaldo, I know that it costs P60. A** hole's meter was at P67.50, and we were not stuck in traffic.

I've always rationalized taking a cab to work because at P60, all I do is sit on my ass, versus taking two tricycle rides and a train ride, while it costs between P35-P40, will require me to walk a few hundred meters. The P20 savings was not worth the sweat, I thought.

With the looming P10 increase, and the possibility of a tampered meter, I don't think P80 for a one-way trip is worth it. I can't pick a fight with a taxi driver and go to work angry every morning.

Plus, the P40 savings daily would add up to P200, more than enough for the P185 bus ride to the province.

I tip drivers who pick me up, no questions asked, especially when I’m in a hurry or when it’s raining, and when their meter is not tampered. I ask for the exact change when he tries to bargain for a “dagdag,” or blasts those god-awful, mind-numbing radio stations.

Excuse me sir, but traffic and steep oil prices is not the commuter’s fault, so don’t invoke those two and try to charge extra. You and I bear the brunt. What if I asked for a P10 discount because my salary was not substantially raised this year?

And don’t get me started on your poor excuse for air-conditioning and the public restroom stench in some cabs.

The most amazing Sunday of my life

Call me really lucky. Last Sunday, I experienced the best of Filipino music and movies.

The TV was on while I was dressing up and I caught Karylle singing the Tagalog version of Beyonce's "Irreplaceable." Substitute the lines "You must not know 'bout me/You must not know 'bout me" with "Wala kang kwentang lalake/Marami kang babae," and "I can have another you in a minute" with "Anong akala mo sa akin, marijuana?"

It was groundbreaking, cutting edge. Not since that boy band from That's Entertainment, Quamo, has any singer captured the soul of an American radio hit in Tagalog. Karylle's "Irreplaceable" is now my second favorite "Tagalized" song, after "Umbrella."

"Di ka na mababasa ng ulan/di na, di na/hinde, hinde, de, de." F***in gold!

Then, on the bus to Manila, the 90s Eddie Garcia starrer, "Mayor Latigo" was playing, and it had two full-on bed scenes featuring Sylvia Sanchez. I must say that today's sexpots have nothing on Sylvia Sanchez.

I can rave on and on about the movie. That is how movies in the action genre should be made. It provokes the intellect. It's pure genius, romanticizing the life of a Rizal town mayor who whips his subordinates in the ass to get them to obey the law.

Never mind the rain when I got down from the bus, the taxi I got had 101.1 Yes! FM blaring from huge speakers on the backseat, where I was seated. It was like a head massage.

This is the life!

Aussie makes fun of Pinoys' explosive 'sh*t'

Australian’s ‘explosive’ jokes anger generals

By Joel Guinto
INQUIRER.net
First Posted 18:34:00 06/17/2008

MANILA, Philippines -- Australian businessman Peter Wallace's comedy routine at a luncheon in Makati City, in which he poked fun at Filipinos' "explosive" feces, had his audience, including the military top brass, outraged instead of laughing.

Wallace, an Australian who is president of The Wallace Business Forum, a consultancy firm, said Filipinos are now feared for having the "most explosive sh*t in the world," after a police investigation showed methane gas from sewage pipes caused the explosion at Makati City’s Glorietta 2 mall in October 2007.

But Wallace did not stop there, he launched into several other jokes at the end of a joint meeting of the Financial Executives Institute of the Philippines (Finex), the Makati Business Club (MBC), and the Management Association of the Philippines (MAP) at the Manila Peninsula Hotel on Tuesday.

"Scientists from Russia, the United States, and China are now analyzing the typical Filipino's diet to learn what could produce sh*t of such explosive force," he said.

"Several Filipinos kidnapped in Afghanistan and Iraq, surprisingly by Arab terrorists, have been asked to produce sh*t to be made into bombs for suicide missions," he said.

Wallace also said the US State Department has alerted the elite Delta Force to "prevent Filipinos and their sh*t from falling into the hands of terror groups."

The businessman also theorized that the November 2007 explosion at the House of Representatives, which killed Basilan Representative Wahab Akbar and three others, was caused by a "congressman [who] just couldn't hold it anymore."

The audience laughed at the first joke, but the amusement level waned as Wallace cracked the succeeding jokes.

Armed Forces of the Philippines chief of staff General Alexander Yano, a guest at the affair, did not laugh at Wallace's routine.

"It was racist. It was done in bad taste. He had no right to say that," a general who was with Yano said.

"I was not entertained. It was not only racist, it was extremely vulgar. It was not fit for a joke in that highly professional and respectable assembly," a second general, who was also at the affair, said.

A middle-grade officer with the generals called the jokes "most offensive, insulting, and impertinent."

Transformers movie 2009

Wheeljack will be on the sequel, and he will be transforming into a Saab Aero X. The fact that the 2007 movie didn't suck, defying my expectations from a Michael Bay film, I'm hoping next year's sequel won't. I want more robots and less humans. Click here for the article on the Saab history website.

Free Starbucks and then some

I don't do Starbuks often, It pains me to pay P150 for designer coffee, plus the "be-seen-at Starbucks-while-puffing-away" crowd is not my thing. I'm not a coffe drinker either. But there are days when I must have either signature hot chocolate or caramel-based frappuccino, both venti.

I decided Wednesday was frappuccino night. I needed the sugar fix. The late afternoon jog gave me back pains. The rains interrupted my poor excuse for a fitness regimen so my body had to adjust -- again -- to the physical activity.

The receipt came out with a code. All I had to do was answer an online survey and coffee is on them, even if it is just the "tall" size (which is actually the smallest cup size at Starbucks, talk about false advertising). The barista said I was one of two customers that day who got internet codes on the receipt.

The other day, while scouring the grocery aisles for pasta sauce. I saw a bottle of organic tomato and basil for P120, marked down from P350. It won't expire until September next year. It was a steal.

The sauce was sweeter than the regular brands, and it was chuky, the way I like it. It was perfect over spinach fetuccine, with a dash of my new favorite spice, cayenne pepper.

Sometimes, the planets align in your favor.

Erotic Chicharon

This will make your blood pressure rise, and your head ache for completely different reasons.

Monay ni Gloria

It got me laughing hysterically, what if government-subsidized bread was called "Monay ni Gloria"? We have "Tindahan ni Gloria" and "Botika ni GMA" so it makes sense. How about "Monay ni Gloria, abot kaya?" Anyone for a taste test?

Free at last!

I will do a cartwheel and a back flip if I could. My 78 days covering Malacanang on top of defense ended two days ahead of schedule today, Sunday. Hell yeah!

No more monitoring government radio and television (no offense to friends in state media, much respect). One morning, I puked listening to a mid-morning anchor lambasting the Sumilao Farmers, and I have a high tolerance for stomach-turning stuff.

No more wearing formal shirts, pants, and shoes. I don't iron clothes and I'm a sneakers person.

No more walking from LRT-2 Legarda Station to the Malacanang Press Corps working area, which to the overweight like me feels like a kilometer.

Thanks to old and new friends who helped me out over the two and a half months of double duty.

Finally, I can resume jogging around camp, taking a power nap after work, and most importantly, income-augmenting activities.

It gets sweeter. Tomorrow, Monday, I'll be back on Pag-asa Island in the Spratlys, and next week, I'll be somewhere in the extreme north for my vacation.

Market Manila

Read up on Marketman after the Holy Week fast. I log on to this site everyday because it's about two of my favorite things -- food and photography.

Lost is Quiapo, three blunders in one day

The universe conspired against me today, March 11, 2008.

I made three errors in my stories. I left my concentration in my apartment: I said the budget 2008 budget was P2.227 trillion instead of P1.227, I said the budget was for the "three Gs" instead of the "three Es," and I wrote Executive Order 127 instead of 712.

It's easy to blame it on fatigue, after all, I'm working the equivalent of three print reporters on two major beats, but at the end of the day, it's my responsibility.

I just wasn't myself today, I need a vacation bad.

I decided to call it a day early. I usually walk from the Malacanang press office to the Legarda LRT station, but I decided to take as jeep to Quiapo and take the train from Recto because of the early evening drizzle.

There I was, a 27-year-old lost in Quiapo. It was a long walk. I held on to my bag and my phone in my pocket, I was in snatcher territory.

I asked for directions from a pedicab driver. He didn't give me a straight answer. He couldn't believe that I couldn't find my way to Recto. I hope he burns in hell.

Luckily, a policeman (or at least I thought he was one) was on the street corner, I recognized him from his "Manila's Finest" sports shirt. His motorcycle wasn't marked.

He said I could take the jeep or walk the entire stretch of what I assumed was Avenida. I decided to walk, and in the 250 or so meters, I found out that at 5:30 p.m., you can buy the following in downtown Manila:

• DVDs (porn, American TV, movies)
• what I assumed were inflatable dildos (Imagine a shampoo sachet, 12 inches long, and with a picture of a penis)
• a "live show" (The faces of the girls were displayed on white illustration boards covered with plastic wrap that were displayed in front of doors that open to a narrow staircase. They looked like they were in their later 20s to early 30, and auditioning for "That's Entertainment)
• squid -- deep-fried crispy calamares style, or dried and roasted over hot coals
• knock-off fashion -- rubber shoes, shirts, jeans, jackets
• Diplomas, the one I saw was supposed to be from DLSU
• huge speakers, the kind that makes your heart and lungs beat
• roast pork belly (I would have stopped for one, but the place didn't look hygenic) and chicken

I decided to treat myself to Jollibee chickenjoy for dinner, but only the wing part was available. I ordered it just the same. It didn't taste fresh and it was a it overcooked. Damn. And the Jollibee Katipunan branch charged VAT separately, which explained the unusually steep bill. It said so in the receipt.

I hope I used up all my bad luck for the year today, and I'm really looking forward to my vacation.

US soldiers kill animals, too

To say this is cruel, even evil, is an understatement. What did the poor puppy do to him? According to a CNN report, the son of a bitch in question is being investigated by the US Marine Corps.

When I wasn't too old for MTV (rock)

At the turn of the millennium, sometime between the late 90s and the 2000s, I was hooked on MTV and Channel V, when it was all about the music, when the VJs were cool (Trey, Nadya, Mike, Kamal, Rahul, Sonya, even Donita Rose). I just don't get the music channels now, especially MYX, who the hell hired Lucky or Heart to VJ? I can't stand them and their twangs.

Thank heavens for YouTube.

Splender "I Think God Can Explain"



The New Radicals "Someday We'll Know"



The Goo Goo Dolls "Black Balloon"



Fuel "Hemorrhage"



Default "Wasting My Time"

The dissenting opinion

I'm sick and tired of people using the word "truth" so loosely, as if it were their monopoly. This article was the fourth most read article on INQUIRER.net on Monday evening.

Has Lozada been playing us for fools all along?

Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:11:00 03/03/2008

MANILA, Philippines - I agree with Belinda Olivares-Cunanan that, indeed, Rodolfo Lozada Jr.’s “too emotional” look makes him appear believable. (“Whistleblower’s own sins,” Inquirer, 2/13/08)

We were intently watching the live telecast of the confrontation between Lozada and former Comelec Chair Benjamin Abalos. At the start, I was under the impression that Lozada should be given the benefit of the doubt. After all, his coming-out derailed his career and many ambitions.

Sadly, however, at one point in the program—when Abalos was talking about how good the hamburgers at his daughter’s canteen in Wack Wack was—we saw Lozada making faces in the background. I realized then that the benefit of the doubt should be given to the administration.

When Lozada was told he was on TV, he said he was not aware that he was also on air. How can an IT expert not know that it is possible for a TV station to simultaneously show on air two persons in different places?

Lozada’s seemingly innocent comment cast a dark cloud on his credibility. Has he been playing us for fools all along? I have been monitoring the NBN hearing at the Senate and the more I hear Lozada’s testimony, the more I realize that he is enjoying every minute of it. Maybe, there is truth to our perception—unpopular though it may be—that Lozada is part of a grand conspiracy to destabilize the present government. Sadly, this is not being shared by those who have been ranting, before the media, against the government.

We dream of a better country to live in, not only for ourselves but also for our children and their children. We fervently pray that our incomes grow tenfold. But allowing a few people to use us, make fun of us and play God with our future will not lead us to this dream. That will keep us from this dream.

—FRANK GONZAGA,

1 President Osmeña St. ,

Commonwealth Heights Subd.,

Quezon City

Click here to read the article on the site

It's all over, Arroyo flees

I was with a pack of reporters, scrambling for a good photo from behind the screen fence of the NAIA Terminal 2. President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo's black Mercedes Benz speeds towards the tarmac. She comes down and boards a gray military plane. She is going on self-exile.

This was my dream the other night. It was too vivid and unlike other dreams, I remember every detail even after I got out of bed. If this comes true, call me if you want to know your future.

Heartbreaking, but can I give up burgers forever?

The United States Department of Agriculture is recalling 143 million pounds of beef, the largest recall in US history, after a California meat packing company was found to have mistreated cattle -- crippling the poor animals and carrying them on forklifts.

I can't bear watching video footage of animal cruelty, but I sure love a big burger. Why am I so concerned with how these animals die, when they'll end up on my plate. What's difference does an "un-cruel" death make when they'll end up as ground beef? Is the food chain enough justification?

I can go vegetarian, even vegan, but that will take a lot of will power and a ton of cash. Plus I remember an animal rights-professor in college telling us in class that plants emit a very faint sound when their leaves or fruits are picked, or when they are uprooted. So what's left to eat?

Rex the Labrador needs a new home

Are you up to it? This article is from the PAWS newsletter, written by journalist Alya Honasan:

I had gone to the PAWS shelter last November 1, All Saints' Day, to light a candle on Muffin's memorial plaque and check out the little asPins, maybe to find a baby sister to bring home to Banana by Christmas. Then Anna Cabrera of PAWS took me to see the Labrador that the Animal Kingdom Foundation had referred to them for rescue and I found myself growing weak in the knees once again in the face man's profound cruelty to the creatures who least deserve it.

It was supposed to be a day for the dead, and I actually thought the dog would soon be among them. Call me nuts, but I found myself in indignant tears, and immediately praying to the high heavens that whoever did this to him would one day die a slow, painful death and barbecue in hell. The dog was a smelly, patchy bag of bones with a whole torso of prominent ribs and open wounds all over his head. The skin around his feet were swollen and wrinkled like a sharpe's, but definitely not as appealing. His hair was almost gone, and he was so absolutely caked in mange, I cringed. He threw up some yellow liquid even as Anna and I watched him. And then, he turned his brown eyes to us—and wagged his tail. Not a weak, tentative wiggle, but a wag as vigorous as his weak body could muster, which wasn't bad at all. Foolish little angel, I thought. Don't you know by now that people are evil, and we can be such bad news, and that we really don't deserve you? Apparently, he hadn't heard.

I couldn't get the dog out of mind over that weekend, and made a deal with Anna that, if things were too busy at the shelter that coming Monday, then she should have him taken to Vets in Practice, and I would pay for his treatment. I mentioned the dog to my friends Ame and Joy that weekend, and they volunteered to share in the expenses, so I was further emboldened. Anna and I had a frank discussion—if he was seriously ill, and it would cost too much to save him, and the money could actually save five other dogs, then I would leave it to her to decide if he had to go.

Come Monday, November 5, Anna called me as she and Liza brought the dog to VIP. On the phone. Dr. Nielsen Donato revealed that what we thought was a chocolate lab—yes, he was that filthy—was actually black, and that he hadn't been carried, but he had actually BOUNDED up the stairs to the clinic. "He's got the spirit," Dr. Nick Carpio said. "I've seen a lot worse. This guy wants to live." And soon, we had christened the dog Rex, for resurrection. I resolved then and there that I was going to try my darnedest to give this dog a second life.

I went to see Rex that same Monday after yoga class, and he had gotten his first bath in what may have been weeks. He was skinny, but still wagging his tail and immediately burrowing his head in my hands. He went for the food bowl with serious focus. We were in business.

Over the next few days, we learned that the swollen appendages were nothing malignant, just a major tick infestation. Rex had bad mange, but no heartworm, and his organs were functioning well. It was simply malnutrition and neglect, and so far, he was fine.

I had tried to keep some distance, asking Anna to find him a foster home and assuming he would go home to the PAWS shelter after discharge. But somehow, I couldn't do it. It's an ego thing, I will admit, whatever messianic complex I have coming into self-righteous overdrive. I want to take this dog, nurse him back to health, and make
him beautiful and happy again as one big, reverberating "F-CK YOU" to every damned soul who has ever hurt a dog. Maybe I can't single-handedly stop the dog meat traffic, or save every dog who's been kicked or beaten or thrown into a dog fight, or keep flaky idiots from buying cute pups and locking them away when they prove too much too handle. But like I told Anna, I have to stay a little myopic here, or my heart will keep breaking. I have to look at just this dog first, and do my bit, one dog at a time.

So, I am writing this November 18, 13 days after we took Rex to VIP and a week since I brought him home. God does keep watch; I prayed hard to Him and St. Francis, patron of the animals, to make Rex's homecoming easy. Now I have my brother's support, and some house help to walk him and feed him when I'm not home. We've built a little cage for him, and he curls up in it contentedly when we put him back in after a short poo break. Even the other dogs, Larry the alpha black Lab and Ruffa the grandmother Dalmatian, seem to have accepted him.

And my darling Banana? As I've always known, my baby has a good and kind heart. There has been no jealousy, no tantrums, no aggression. I thank God she's so secure in her love, she doesn't mind sharing Mama's attention, even for a while.

Now, Rex shoves his wet, drooling, still mangy face in my hands whenever he sees me, and rubs his body against my leg. I gave him his first mange bath outside the clinic the other day, and the sponge came away black—but I'm seeing more of his skin everyday. Most of his wounds have dried up, although I see some fresh ones when thick encrustations of skin fall away. Even his tail is skinny! But he's gotten more meat on his bones, he doesn't stink anymore, and I'm seeing patches of his thick black hair growing back. We're going back to VIP on Saturday for a check-up.

I am humbled by the joy Rex shows, even after everything he has gone through. To paraphrase Neruda, oh, how many times I have wanted to have a tail—how I envy his open spirit and his freedom from anger. Someday, I hope I can learn to forgive whoever did this to Rex, just as he apparently has. How much better would this world be if every person had a heart as big as a dog's? How perfect would it be if we could shake off bitterness like water, like a Lab does after a swim, with such vigor and determination? What a gift indeed.

My friends are already kidding me that Rex is mine. I like to think he always will be, in a way. And if nobody takes him and is willing to take care of him with the special care that this miracle dog deserves, then I AM keeping him. But I live with an 83-year-old mom, and Banana had to learn to walk gently around her so she doesn't knock her over; you know how Labradors are like small, panting freight trains when they careen towards you. If Rex stays with me, he will be walked, fed, loved, and taken care of. He will live in a kennel during the day, and when he's well enough, have the run of my garage with Larry and Ruffa for the late afternoons and evenings. But I can't bring him indoors like Banana.

Here's the deal: If you, my friend, or anybody you KNOW WELL wants him, and if you want to take him indoors and give him a really good, cushy life, then he's yours. I mean a life indoors with you and your family, occasional car trips, walks to any nearby patch of green—he's a Lab, he'll be the gentlest, most playful thing on earth, and he deserves some fun and a bigger world than the one he's had to live in.

The bad news is, they estimate him to be about 3 years old, and the fact is, this kind of malnutrition usually has some permanent damage, so there is a possibility that he may develop problems in the future, despite everything we're doing now—multivitamins, mange medicine, antibiotics, etc. The good news is, he's an extraordinary dog with a second life, and I am only going to turn him over when he's healthy and fully recovered again. But please assure me that you're committed, because you've going to have to answer to me!

So there. Just letting you know my latest canine adventure, and if there is somebody out there who really wants him and can give him a better life than I can—I pray that St. Francis leads you to each other, and I will know that my part in Rex's journey will have been fulfilled. I believe in fate; I'm still waiting to learn if I'm just a stopover, or the final destination in this dog's life. Either way, it's been a privilege. It hasn't been easy, but hey—gifts come in different packages.

Good night, Sheryl Cruz

I brought Sheryl Cruz (Crewe, as my sister and cousins insist) to the PAWS animal shelter along Aurora Boulevard this morning, the receptionist said their veterinarian would look at the poor thing, but chances are, she will be "put to sleep" (read: euthanasia).

Sheryl needs her mother, and the shelter did not have a mother cat, for milk and everything else, such as licking her eyes. She would have died an agonizing death, had she stayed under my care, the receptionist said.

The vetererinarian will inject Sheryl with sodium pentobarbital, afterwards, she will die in her sleep. The receptionist consolded me with the fact that the poor cat will be buried in a pet cemetery, one block away from the shelter.

I signed a waiver so, in a way, I am partly responsible in case the veterinarian puts her to "sleep." So much for rescuing her. My sister claims her asthma is triggered by cat fur and I will be out of town for the weekend so Sheryl would have died of hunger in the apartment.

On a happier note, I checked on Laya, a dog my colleague rescued from dog meat traders, who was recovering at the shelter and he was looking good.

Laya has grown his fur back. The last time I saw him in a PAWS newsletter, he was bruised and shaved, ready to be turned into "kapukan."

Goodbye, Nanay

Wala na si Nanay. Last January 18, at a little past midnight, with her children and grandchildren by her side, my aunt, whom I called "Nanay" passed away. I am sure she will go to heaven. I admire her for her kindness, warmth, and wit. I will miss the afternoon chats, the exchange of dishes during lunch and dinner. May she rest in peace.