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Jack

“He would come in every morning to wake me up — I often left the door open or ajar for ventilation — or anytime he wanted to play.

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Let me introduce you to my dog, Jack.

In all the years we’ve had dogs, I can only call two dogs as mine: Tyson and Jack.

(However, just lately, two other dogs have claimed me as theirs. But that’s a story for another day.)
Had it not been for his incessant barking, we would never have had Jack.

You see he was the dog of the neighborhood basurero. Apparently, someone gave him a puppy as a gift without really finding out if he was capable of taking care of one.

Jack was the first in a line of dogs that he was gifted with. When my aunt took pity of Jack and bought him, the man realized he could make a business out of it. But after selling a couple of puppies, people wised up and stopped giving him dogs.

We discovered Jack the week after the parish fiesta in 2015. Apparently, the man tied him to a pole in the vacant lot behind our kitchen. For the next week, he was howling like crazy day in and day out. I thought the neighborhood drunks were butchering another dog for pulutan.

It turned out the poor puppy was hungry. Very hungry. He only got fed if the man managed to scrounge around some food for him. We would later find out Jack was only fed leftover rice, which was stone cold most of the time.

Well, my aunt had enough of the puppy’s racket she asked my uncle to talk to the man to buy Jack for P500. He easily said yes.

As I was wondering what happened to the noisy pup because he had grown quiet, my aunt told me she bought the dog and that I should give it to my sister to take care of. My sister eventually declined because her husband only wanted dogs that are white.

My uncle told me the dog was outside tied to the light post across our gate. He would bring him in after our two dogs, Andrew and Lala, have had their lunch and were taken upstairs for their siesta.

About an hour later, I finally saw what Jack looked like.

He was as small as a cat and had unruly brown-and-white hair. He wasn’t an aspin; it would take me a few days to realize that he’s actually a Jack Russell mix. But mixed with what? From the markings on his body and Google image search, I guessed he was part Dachshund. (His photos are on my Facebook and Instagram accounts.)
When I went downstairs an hour later, my uncle had brought in Jack. It was no surprise that he wanted to hide, being as he was in a new place. He was crouched outside the bathroom door, trying his best not to be seen.

I called to him, whistled to him. He just looked at first, eventually he came a little closer.

I went to the kitchen and got a slice of loaf bread and tore it into little pieces. I placed some on the floor between us. He crept to them slowly and ate them up. I showed him I had some more pieces of bread in my hand. He came closer to me, until he was before me, waiting to be given food.

When he was done eating, he was already lying by my side, still waiting for the next morsel.

In the next few days, he was bathed, and the vet was called to give him his shots.

However, the pressing matter then was what to name him. The basurero gave him a weird name — Mor. That simply wouldn’t do.
I was thinking of naming him after Tyson — Jackson.

But my aunt beat me to it. She named him Jack, because he looked like a Jack Russell. Good enough.

He grew in size the next few weeks, and made friends with Andrew and Lala, who were amazed to find a puppy in our house.

I taught him how to go up the stairs, something he was scared to do at first. When he got the hang of it, he loved going up and down, often parking himself on the second floor landing.

I eventually invited him to my room. And since then, he would come in every morning to wake me up — I often left the door open or ajar for ventilation — or anytime he wanted to play.

He would jump up on my bed and be the nuisance that he is. He also learned that if he bumped the door with his head, it might open. And he’s been doing that ever since, with all our other dogs picking up the trick from him.
And that’s how I got a dog.

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