We got Zeus when he was barely three months old in 2009, a Christmas gift for our children. He’s a playful dog and loves to nibble on anything: newly potted plants, wooden furniture and footwear were among his favorites. Almost all of our furniture has nibble marks, and we’ve had to throw away a few pairs of shoes and slippers that we carelessly left outside the door.
The children adored him, when he was a puppy he slept in the kids’ room. He loved to fetch, and loved to have you run after him to play tug-o-war with whatever it was you had him fetch – an empty soda bottle, a stick, a chewed up slipper. He can be intimidating too – he wasn’t that tall nor long, but he was bulky and had a deep baritone for a bark. Those he scared just didn’t know that his barks were simply an invitation to play.
Last year, a friend offered one of their Labrador’s puppies to us, a female that we named Juno. We thought she’d be a perfect match for Zeus. In the days leading to that stormy night, we noticed several times how Zeus would try to mate with Juno. She must be going in heat soon, we thought.And then it happened, got out. He loved darting out of the gate whenever we opened it. He even learned how to pretend not to be interested in escaping, and silly us fell for it often – we’d open the gate and in the blink of an eye he’s out. He would not answer to anyone’s call, one of us would have to run after him and lead him back home. We were confident that he was just in the neighbourhood, waiting to be fetched.
There were several sightings in the days, weeks that followed, but we never saw him again. After more than a month, the sightings stopped and we thought: somebody must have taken him in already. We were sad, of course, the kids specially. Even Juno was, we noticed. But at some point, I became somewhat angry at Zeus. How can he do this to us? We fed him, and fed him well. We played with him whenever we can, took him on trips around town whenever we had the chance. He loved having a specific spot on his belly rubbed, and we obliged and I found it amusing how, whenever we would miss that area by even just a inch, he would use his paws to guide our hand to the right spot.
But then I thought, there was something he needed, perhaps, that we couldn’t provide that he found somewhere else. He yearned for something, and we didn’t have that – our home didn’t have that.
Several good friends are leaving for foreign shores soon. They’re leaving as a group, almost all of them were born and raised in Baguio. They’re very, very good at what they do, no wonder they easily passed the audition for that gig. I’m not sure about the rest but I know a couple of them would rather not leave home. But they are left with no choice, home doesn’t have what they want, need. No, they’re not asking for the moon really, just a fair fighting chance in this crazy world.
They’re not alone, in fact here are many of them – artists, doctors, nurses, teachers, a lot of them would rather stay home but are left with no other choice but to grin and bear it, bite the bullet, be away for a while, sometimes a long while, from their loved ones, for what? What were those again? Food, clothing, shelter? Some peace of mind. Freedom from anxiety. A future that’s just a little brighter.
Never mind the ones who are leaving because they want to, those who've totally lost faith in this nation, have pledged allegiance to a different flag, but my heart bleeds for those who have to leave home because they need to. It’s not easy. I've tried leaving once, and I just couldn't.
We are among the countries with the richest natural resources in the world, and we live in one of the most beautiful cities in this country. Why are they leaving? Because As big as that pie is, only a few enjoy the lion’s share of it, while the rest are left with crumbs – that’s how it is in this country, and it’s how it is in this city.
What can I say, but fare thee well. Fare thee well.
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