Aspin snobbery is usually from the ignorant and uninformed. I once had a helper applicant who turned up her nose at the thought of taking care of rescue dogs, saying she was accustomed to the purebred dogs of her former employers.
Growing up, we always had purebred pets, many of them show quality, even if we never actually showed. Lady, my Collie, and Sasha, my sister’s Golden Retriever, were imported from breeders in California.
When I moved into a larger place and became an entrepreneur, I’d always planned to get a dog, and considered all sorts of breeds ranging from a Dogue de Bordeaux (a large mastiff) to a Coton de Tulear (similar to a Maltese). However, I began to read more and more about the plight of stray dogs and cats in the Philippines and how so many of them were neglected and abused. So, when I decided to take the doggie plunge, I called a friend from CARA.
She suggested I meet Choc-Nut, a dog they had been fostering for several months. Choc-Nut was rescued from a Cavite construction site. He was one month old, mangy and disease-ridden, and no one expected him to survive. But he was a fighter, and thanks to CARA, he was a vibrant and healthy seven-month old pup when I met him.
If you can find it in your heart to adopt instead of shop, I promise, you won’t be sorry. You will have the satisfaction of knowing you saved and changed their lives and be rewarded with so much love, loyalty and gratitude from pets that know it, too.
Choc-Nut was a little standoffish at first but would let me pet him, provided I didn’t make any sudden movements. He struggled for a bit when I came to take him home, but then he seemed to know instinctively that I was going to be his person and imprinted on me almost immediately.
This isn’t to say we didn’t have our challenges. Igor (the dog formerly known as Choc-Nut) is incredibly intelligent, and sometimes I think I should have called him Lex Luthor. While he’s normally pretty obedient, he unfortunately uses his formidable powers of stealth, cunning and unbelievably elastic snout for evil to steal people food. He knows it’s wrong, but when it comes to fried chicken or steak, Igor will happily do the time for committing the crime.
He’s also incredibly protective of me and my belongings and barks and growls at everyone who comes to visit or touches my computer, wallet or bed. One weekend, Igor and I drove to a friend’s house in Zambales, where he quickly bonded with their dog-loving caretaker. When I was ready to leave, my friend asked the caretaker to get my bag from the guest room and put it in my car. Minutes later, the caretaker came out laughing and said she needed help, because every time she tried to pick up the bag, Igor would growl and pull at her skirt, unwilling to bite her, but not ready to let her touch my stuff, either.
Distinct personalities
Last year, I suddenly found myself with a second, unplanned aspin. Feeling sorry for the emaciated but cheerful stray, I agreed to foster him and nurse him back to health so we could find him a new home. He was sweet, quiet and gentle and I would chide Igor, saying why can’t you be a good doggie like this one? Needless to say, Frankie (short for Young Frankenstein, a fitting name for Igor’s sidekick) turned out to be a foster fail. I couldn’t find anyone to take him in, but more importantly, he had endeared himself to me, despite what turned out to be false advertising.
It turns out he wasn’t quiet or gentle or docile at all, just hungry and tired. Once he was healthy, well-fed and feeling comfortable, Frankie turned out to still be very sweet, but also very rambunctious and incredibly naughty. His favorite thing to do is to bug his big brother Igor and “walk” him by pulling his leash.
They’re both happy and healthy now, with very lovable and distinct personalities. But it still breaks my heart when I see my dogs exhibit traces of the difficult lives they must have led before they were adopted.
Igor still gets upset and agitated any time someone picks up anything with a stick handle, like a vacuum cleaner or a broom. I just wish I could find a way to make him understand that no one will ever hurt him again, and that he can finally relax. The same goes for Frankie who still scurries under the bed trembling any time he hears the faintest bit of thunder or sees a flash of lightning. I wish I could explain to him that except for their dreaded weekly baths and monthly professional grooming, he will always be safe, warm and dry for the rest of his life.
Handsome boys
With lots of love and good nutrition, my askals (asong kalye) have turned out to be real lookers, with many people stopping us to ask what breeds they are, because they’re so handsome. And I know the term askal is no longer considered politically correct, but I still like it. Because my dogs aren’t just aspin, they really were askals—scrappy little fighters and survivors who, with a little TLC, thrived and metamorphosed into noble, loving creatures who bring so much joy, love and laughter into my life.
Of course, I’ve encountered the inevitable aspin snobbery, but it’s usually from the more ignorant and uninformed. I once had a helper applicant who turned up her nose at the thought of taking care of rescue dogs, saying she was accustomed to caring for the purebred dogs of her former employers. Others cringe or visibly express disgust when we walk by, but loudly fawn over the Beagle or Lab walking beside us.
I confess, I secretly judge them (and their invariably tacky outfits), and sometimes, my inner Imelda wants to tell them my dogs’ food and care budget is probably larger than theirs. Then I remind myself that it’s not my job to educate the stupid and trying hard, and that enjoying my pogi doggies is a far better use of my time and my energy.
But for the most part, friends and strangers alike smile appreciatively, compliment Igor and Frankie on their good looks and try to buy their love with little treats.
So, if you have your heart set on a purebred dog, don’t patronize unethical pet shops, puppy mills or ignorant backyard breeders, no matter how well-intentioned. Legitimate breeders are few and far between, especially in Manila, and yes, they’re expensive, but find one if you’re going that route, because it’s the responsible thing to do. You don’t want to perpetuate animal abuse or other harmful breeding practices.
But if you can find it in your heart to adopt instead of shop, I promise, you won’t be sorry. You will have the satisfaction of knowing you saved and changed their lives and be rewarded with so much love, loyalty and gratitude from pets that know it, too.
Just keep an eye on your fried chicken and steaks.
