When I first saw Juancho I immediately said, “That’s my boy.”
A happy, rambunctious Pembroke Welsh Corgi whose tail remains safe from the cruel practice of docking, Juancho was just returned to the breeder despite his first owner loving him dearly. You see, his previous owner had a girlfriend who was not so fond of dogs and forced him to return the puppy just a few weeks later.
He’s ridden trains with us to Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, and France. In each city we stopped at, he would make new friends. I know, just like me, he loved Italy a lot.
I was told that he was tearing up as he brought the dog back and just a few days later, they got my call. A random woman who could only sputter a few words in German, asking if they had any male puppies left.
While I felt bad for the guy who had to return Juancho, I truly believe that it was because this dog was meant for no one else but me. Sure, he was my husband’s too. But we knew right then and there that he was going to be a true-blue Mama’s Boy.
The moment we got him, I referred to myself as “mommy,” which is quite funny for someone who has no strong connection to the idea of birthing and raising a human being. To this four-legged ball of personality, however, I would feel a pang of sadness whenever I am reminded that I practically kidnapped him from his real mother. Being of a different species, it’s also fact that I’m merely masquerading as a mother figure no matter how much we start making the same facial expressions and how much of my personality has rubbed off on him.
The journey back from the small German town of Bendorf back to Berlin where we were living at the time was a grueling eight hours on the train. It was the 9th of June when we got him and we reached our apartment after midnight. By then, it was already my 29th birthday and I remember not being able to sleep because of how happy I was to have him.
A full-fledged family member
Juancho quickly became a well-loved member of the family. Our friends were all excited to come and meet him and others happily volunteered to watch him on days when we had to be out for extended periods. Our families were all happy to have him around. Even my own mom who claimed to be allergic to dogs is somehow—miraculously—perfectly fine kissing him. “He doesn’t stink like the others,” she would say with a huff. Right.
My dad would refer to him as “my dog” whenever he would call and ask how he is. Juancho is smart, funny, and extremely sweet which makes it so difficult not to fall in love with him. We traveled with him around Europe, taking him with us on long car rides to the Czech Republic, little towns in Austria and Bavaria, and even making it to the Netherlands. He’s ridden trains with us to Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, and France.
In each city we stopped at, he would make new friends. I know, just like me, he loved Italy a lot. The way people get excited over seeing him is just next level when you hear it in loud, frenzied Italian, echoing in the narrow streets of Florence. “Que bello,” they would say. And he always knew it was about him.
His crazy antics, training him, and just watching him grow made the days feel long at the time, but looking back, I sit here and wonder how it has been six years by now. If he were human, he’d be going into first grade by next school year and I’d probably be frantic by now, looking for the right school and worrying about tuition fees and school uniforms. Instead, this little guy works for me.
I was diagnosed with anxiety in Berlin with some warnings on depressive tendencies. My psychiatrist recommended that Juancho get listed as an emotional support animal which made him eligible for a professional-looking ID, a smug look on his face, and allowed him to fly with me in plane cabins. His status proved useful when we had to move back to the Philippines.
From Berlin to Manila
From Germany, Juancho moved with us to Manila in the middle of the pandemic. My dog charmed the flight attendants on our near-empty Qatar Airways flight. The most behaved living creature under five, he would just lie on the floor and wait for the flight attendants to fawn over him before starting to show them the tricks he knew. She would offer his paw for them to shake like a true gentleman and their squeals would be audible to a few rows away.
In Manila, he adjusted quite well. We were lucky to live near a dog park but we didn’t always go due to the heat. We were lucky to have moved during the time when pandemic restrictions were starting to ease and we could bring him to most restaurants and parks undisturbed.
In Manila, he also had an encounter with a particular tick that endangered his life, causing him to spend three nights in the animal hospital. Those were the longest three nights of my life, and I would visit him twice a day, breaking my own rule of never crying in public. He survived but I am now emotionally scarred from the ordeal.
Three years later, he moved with us to Tokyo.
Hello, Tokyo!
The process took a whole six months with my husband having to go ahead a month earlier while I waited for Juancho’s papers to get finalized. “Really, you agreed to get left behind for a dog? It’s not a child, you know.” A fellow diplomat’s wife said to me with a laugh, passing it off as a joke after I told her my husband had gone ahead. “He’s family,” I answered with a glare. “And I think love shouldn’t discriminate like that.”
While I do not see myself on the same level as mothers, I admit that I also appreciate the Mother’s Day greetings. Some may have used it as a consolation of sorts, laced with a bit of unwarranted pity for people like me who supposedly resort to dogs rather than children. But not once did I see Juancho—whom I chose wholeheartedly—as a consolation prize. What makes me smile is the recognition that raising him is also a form of mothering. That the love I have for him is also valid.
It’s just a dog’ is something I find so offensive, uncouth, and apathetic. It sometimes makes me wonder how there are people who can only feel genuine love and care for their own kind when we share this planet with other creatures.
To be a mother means so much more than giving birth to someone and to “mother” another living thing—be it human or otherwise—also entails work, love, and sacrifice. It’s signing up for a lifetime of constant care and worry and while that means a shorter time for a dog, I find that it also shows how much we’re willing to love a creature that only has love to give in return, knowing of the inevitable heartbreak that will someday come.
He won’t be there to care for me when I’m old, he won’t grow up to be successful in a certain field and bring me pride, but what he can provide me is wordless comfort on days that I’m down. Comfort that he willingly gives without me having to say or explain anything.
“It’s just a dog” is something I find so offensive, uncouth, and apathetic. It sometimes makes me wonder how there are people who can only feel genuine love and care for their own kind when we share this planet with other creatures. We often take their habitat and consume more resources than necessary to the point where there’s nothing left for them. We live in a world where somehow, despite being the cause of climate change and wars that affect not only our kind but those of animals too, dogs seem to still find the good in us.
Why is love, for some people, finite? Why is it so conditional and reserved only for those who look like them?
A viral online trend has been showing photos and stories of dogs that have passed away. I find myself bawling every time the algorithm brings me to that particular side of the internet. One had a caption that said something along the lines of how, for us, dogs tend to be just a chapter in our lives when for them, we’re the whole book. It has made me more resolute in my mission to give Juancho the best life I could possibly offer.
Juancho has been a source of joy, companionship, and comfort, especially during challenging times. His loyalty and unconditional love make me thankful every single day and I cherish every moment spent with him.
As Mother’s Day approaches, I celebrate mothers around me and acknowledge their major contributions to society. I also reflect on the special bond I share with Juancho and the role we have in each other’s lives. I have nurtured and cared for him. I watch him happily as he eats, I complain about my back whenever I need to give him a bath yet I do it anyway. I make jokes about how noisy he is but feel sad when I’m busy writing and I don’t get to join them on their evening walk.
Being Juancho’s primary source of care has taught me unconditional love is not bound to your own kind. He has taught me patience, empathy, and the importance of living in the present moment.
On Mother’s Day, I also celebrate the unique bond between a dog mom and her furry companion—a bond that transcends species yet touches the depths of the heart.
So, as I receive greetings and well wishes on Mother’s Day, I proudly embrace the title of dog mom, knowing that Juancho has brought immeasurable joy and love into my life. Here’s to all moms in whatever shape or form. To the dog moms out there who share a special connection with their four-legged children, I see you. And that love? That’s valid.
