Quote for the day:

“I would do anything for love,
I’d run right into hell and back.”

- Meat Loaf, I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)

I had an epiphany last night.

WARNING: THIS POST MAY BE A LITTLE GROSS FOR MANY READERS.

As the household’s official poop-scooper, I took my dog out for her to do her business like I do on most nights.

Because of her current situation, she’s been eating the worst smelling dog food on the face of the earth. Aaaand the change in her diet obviously had a direct effect on her excrement.

Before when she was on dry food, her crap came in cute little lumpy stumps [see Mr. Hankey]. But now with her PHP50/day magic in a can, they look like black moist Play-Doh snakes [I can't get hold of an image that could capture what they look like; let's just say that I've never seen sh*t like that in my entire life].

I’m not the kind of person who likes waiting around, but since she’s so cute that even when she’s doing her thing you can’t help but go “kyaaa” even a little, I didn’t mind so much. As I watched her answering nature’s call, and I noticed that she was taking longer than usual to get her business done. I guess the muscles down there aren’t as strong as they used to be.

But anyway, she finished, and after running back home, I went straight back to my laptop to continue “working”. I was typing to my heart’s delight when I smelled something strange. To confirm my suspicions, I sniffed around my dog’s rear.

There was something there all right.

Normally I would call my mom to handle situations like this, because I’m like, too delicate for things like that. But unfortunately for me, my mother wasn’t home.

So I got a wet wipe. I thought that I could wipe off the remaining traces of the moist goodness on her arse. And there was moist goodness all right. Lots and lots of it. [My dog's the long-haired kind so things like this get easily overlooked.]

Apparently her butt wasn’t able to… cut the snake loose.

I didn’t see how much of it was left.
I didn’t look.
But let me just tell you that I thought at first that it was only a little.

Armed with only a wet wipe separating my hand from the warm softness her butthole blessed me with, I excavated.

And I excavated some more.

My brother came to my aid with the box of wet wipes and cheered me on. My friends, who were sleeping over for the night, oohed and aahed and thanked their lucky stars that they weren’t me.

It seemed to last forever.

Because you know what?

She wasn’t done!

She was pushing! The bitch [and I mean that in the most polite way possible] was pushing!

So I took her to the bathroom and hosed her butt down with the bidet hose [whoever invented that thing was a genius]. I got in there with a paper towel every now and then. Now I pride myself on having a pretty strong stomach, but those long minutes with my dog’s ass soon took its toll on my digestive system. I started retching [none of my dinner came up don't worry], my eyes teared up, and all I could say was: “yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck.”

It was somewhere in those precious moments when it dawned upon me: LOVE.

Because why else would I be there cleaning out my sick dog’s ass? I am Donya Quixote dangit, and I do not clean out assholes!

You think so highly of your parades of heart-shaped balloons and bouquets of roses, when you having nothing on me! NOTHING! [Not bitter.]

You think that can match up to my bidet? I scornfully laugh at your pitiful displays of what you call love. *insert scornful laugh here* You have nothing on my bidet. NOTHING! [Not bitter.]

Love is powerful.

It moves mountains.
It dies in the place of others.

It hurts.
It wounds.
It mars.

It dares people to move.
To create.
To destroy.

And ultimately for me, to reach for that paper towel and hold my breath.

I know, what a touching story. Parang Marley and Me lang eh.

After the longest five [?] minutes in the world, Donya Quixote finished hosing down her dog’s rear.

They continue to share the same bed. The dog snores.

Matching outfits are now in the works.

Quote for the day:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

- We all know the song.

I spent Valentine’s with some friends at the air show at Clark. And yes, it was fun.

But I’m not blogging about my Feb14 to tell you guys about how sunburned I was at the end of the day, or how we got stuck in traffic so we missed the balloons altogether, or how I’m itching to know how Rico Yan and Judy Ann Santos resolved their conflict in Kay Tagal Kita Hinintay [we stopped over a friend's house for merienda and it was showing on Cinema One, okay?]…

I’m writing about Feb14 because of someone I love very much.

My parents took our dog to the vet last Saturday because she’s been having trouble breathing.

And we found out that my dog has a big heart.

Which is perfectly wonderful, as long as you don’t mean it in the literal sense.

But her heart’s just that – big – and that, my friends, is bad news with a capital B.

It’s terminal, so she has to be on medication for the rest of her life now, and we have to change her lifestyle and make it… less exciting.

And for the past couple of days, she’s been sluggish and lethargic, and it got so bad that she couldn’t even raise her head to greet me when I came home. She also lost her appetite and didn’t eat for an entire day.

So for the past few days I’ve been pretty upset, so upset that I’ve had my eyes welling up on the jeep, or even worse, holding back tears in class. Etc, atbp, usw.

But today, for the first time since Saturday, when I opened the door she toddled right up to me, her little stump of a tail wagging furiously, saying, “I’m happy to see you happy to see you happy to see you…”

Today is a happy day.

I love my dog.

I shall go cry happy tears now bye.