Within the space of less than two weeks, we Filipinos have found ourselves caught between a starkly unimaginable polarity of emotions.
On the one hand, the recent visit of typhoon Frank thrashed and pummeled whole countrysides, leading to large-scale loss of life and property. Most horrible of all, it was the direct cause of the sinking of what in historical record was the largest inter-island seafaring vessel operating for Filipino passengers, the M/V Princess of the Stars. This tragedy of overwhelming proportions rang a death toll running into the hundreds.
On the other hand, the exemplary Pinoy athlete Manny Pacquiao has just captured yet another world championship title in boxing, marking out a milestone in the history of the sport in that he now stands as the first Asian to hold four championship belts in four different weight divisions. This is no small feat, and the achievement has already reaped the huge attention, accolade, and celebration it deserves from boxing critics and fans all around the world. It need not be explained how Manny Pacquiao has once again ignited passion and pride among all Pinoys because of this, so much so that everybody could feel the palpable jubilation in the streets. Go, Manny, go!
In less than two weeks, Pinoys were besieged by a turbulent wave of grieving and desparation, only to later on find ourselves lifted upward by a surge of victory. One can easily be reminded of the unexpected twists and turns of a hair-raising roller coaster ride. Or the swinging of a pendulum, with horror at one end of the amplitude, and rejoicing at the other.
I cannot help but join the chorus of voices extolling the thunderous victory of one of my fellow countrymen in a sport that has captured and inflamed the sentiments of all Pinoys like me. The particular instance in which he struck the final blow on his opponent seemed to be etched in time--one single tick of the clock when all Filipinos saw one of their own finally taking down an Enemy, an Adversary which encapsulated in itself all the terror and malady of the previous days. When Pacquiao's opponent fell like a ton of bricks on the canvass, a huge release of breath could almost be heard all throughout the country. We have just been through terrible tragedy, yes, but one single punch has proclaimed that we have emerged through it victorious, too.
Pinoys have always been the resilient lot. We have been through all sorts of desperate times and unimaginable loss, and yet even after the worst of calamities we seem to be able to whittle off the last of its vestiges much like dusting ourselves off after a slight stumble. It may take less than two weeks--in this case, it took only one final punch.
Being a Pinoy myself, I see this as a desperate yearning for good news--any good news--that could reassure the heart in the middle of a multitude of crises afflicting each Pinoy. The bad news is depressingly widespread enough--continually rising cost of living brought about by record levels of inflation, hunger and military conflict in the south of the country, flagrant corruption in high places in government, and most recently a calamitous typhoon, on top of everything. A Manny Pacquiao victory still remains to be the one good thing we would readily bandy about with proud smiles to all people around the world. We Pinoys know deep inside ourselves that every other race seems to look down on us, but, hey, we have a world champion fourfold! Who can top that?
Still, in spite of the undeniable praiseworthiness of us Pinoys to vent all sorts of merrymaking and cheers to what Pacquiao has carved out for himself as well as for all of us, it still makes sense to keep our sense of proportion in order. His victory, however towering and larger-than-life it might have been, is in its deepest essence that of only one man. A whole multitude of Pinoys, in fact, face collective challenges which are themselves also towering and larger-than-life, and which also cry for each one of us to prevail over. There has always been this danger that we Pinoys would hang on to Pacquiao's stellar achievement to such an overbearing degree that its memory would overshadow the ever-present need for every one of us to be a warrior ourselves against our collective problems. Pacquiao's job was to fight his Mexican opponent, and he did it rather exceedingly well. Now it's our turn to face our own adversaries. And the very first we would have to tangle with is ourselves--after all, we have a whole country to rehabilitate, what with the typhoon having hit us, and our desperate population still among the poorest in the world, among other things. Plenty of changes need to be started. There are obligations to be performed scrupulously. Pacquiao's finishing blow should not be an end in itself. It should serve as a new beginning, an inspiration for every Pinoy to get up and accomplish what should get done.
I would prefer that the government lead the way. Things like this should never have to be said, and yet it seems that in performance and example, the government could be likened to a poorly-trained and mediocre boxer, always on the losing end of a fight. How I wish our government could be more of Pacquiao's caliber, an excellent fighter who could wage war against social ills and injustices, a fighter dedicating its effort to all Pinoys. Sadly enough, the typical Pinoy is given this responsibility and burden to shoulder, and could expect no amount of help from the bureaucracy. Only time would tell whether it could reform itself.
Still, I nurture a hope that Pinoys finally come to their senses and see the true meaning of Pacquiao's daring efforts to overcome each and every one of his opponents. I have this hope that Pinoys inspire each other and struggle to become world-class warriors in whatever they are involved with, whether you are in government, in another country, or staying here at home. Between the sinking of a ship and the raising of all our victorious fists, I hope we could collect ourselves and make the pendulum swing to the side better for all of us, all the time.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The Saddest Day in The History of Philippine Movies
Most of us didn't really see it coming, and yet slowly, inexorably, the decline came as quietly as the setting of the sun.
It used to be that General Motors sold the most number of cars and car parts in the world. When the American public and the world population in general reversed their habits and bought less and less of General Motors products, the company's revenues sank so low that they had to lay off thousands of workers. These unfortunate workers must have dedicated so much of their lives to their craft and livelihood, and yet, in exchange for years--maybe even decades of service, it became their lot to be rewarded with the loss of their jobs. A host of various factors brought this about, factors which may be both within and outside the control of these workers. But the fact remains that the end result was not desirable, and perhaps even incomprehensible to those very workers.
The same thing has happened to the Philippine movie industry. Where once the Industry managed to produce around 100 movie titles per year, the number has drastically been dwindling as we move closer to the end of the decade. At present, the Filipino moviegoing public can expect only around 40 or so new titles this year, less than half of the previous yearly average.
If you liken this situation to what has happened to General Motors, it simply means that the Industry has been making less, and by necessity has to shed a whole lot of its workforce. Say that, hypothetically, around 50 workers at an average work on one film. That would total to about 5, 000 workers for 100 films ( usually the number of workers per film reaches beyond the 50 mark ). Now, slash the number of films to 40, and you easily see 3, 000 people without jobs. You can imagine a hundred people lined up a city block doing nothing all day. How about 3,000 of them? They would probably fill, oh, about six city blocks.
Which could only mean that the Philippine movie industry as a whole earns a lot less than it did before. Because of this, it wouldn't have enough financial strength to compensate its workers. And with less workers, how can movie producers make more films?
I have worked in the Philippine movie industry myself for over 10 years, and am a personal witness to the steady decline of the Industry. I have seen how so many colleagues of mine have lost their jobs, simply because local movie producers have been making less movies. It saddens me to see them--movie directors, film editors, screenwriters, movie actors--co-workers in the film industry who have dedicated whole lifetimes to their work ( or as some of them would prefer to describe it, their passion ), now left with too little or nothing to do, drifting away like ashes from a dying ember.
The Industry hasn't always been in such a sorry state as this. It was not too long ago when one or two, even three Filipino movies would be showing at the cineplexes for every week of the year, side-by-side with American films. And, like their American counterparts, local films back then did enjoy a considerable amount of patronage. At some indistinguishable point, however, it was slowly becoming apparent that Filipino moviegoers were beginning to avoid local films at the moviehouses, and instead were flocking in droves to Hollywood blockbusters.
The simple explanation for this would be that Filipino moviegoers just got fed up with the sub par quality of local films as compared to that of Hollywood movies. American films have better picture quality and better sound. American movies have better stories. Filipino-made movies simply haven't ever reached the same level of technical and creative excellence. There was a time when we didn't care at all about this difference in quality, but that time is past. Today, in our age of 5.1 digital dolby surround sound, in this age of spectacular technological innovations in filmmaking, Hollywood movies reign supreme and local movies are being left behind.
There had been a time when this difference in quality didn't really matter, because admission prices were more affordable, whether you were going to a Filipino or American movie. However, ticket prices at the box office have been recently skyrocketing. When you choose between two products which have the same forbidding price tag, you normally and logically patronize the better product. In the contest between Hollywood movie wizardry versus the mostly lackadaisical and unspectacular Filipino films, the winner would be very much obvious enough.
Filipino moviegoers readily place the blame on local film workers, who are perceived as unqualified and incapable of matching the abilities of filmmakers in Hollywood.
This finger-pointing, however, is not the exclusive domain of the audience. Filipino film workers themselves decry the fact that local movie producers, or financiers, have never at all allocated the proper budget for their projects. From my personal experience, local film workers have always been yearning to deliver movies to the Filipino audience that would satisfy the demand for Hollywood quality. That yearning remains unfulfilled. Top-notch quality filmmaking, as defined by Hollywood standards, requires top-notch funding in the first place. Local movie producers simply cannot and will never ever allow this. And why so? Hollywood blockbusters have the backing of millions of U.S. dollars as production budgets. Even 100 million Philippine pesos is but a paltry sum compared to that.
Still, the complaint about local movies' scant production budgets is not new. It is, in fact, a perpetual complaint. Local film workers have been struggling with this situation for generations. In trying to break free from this quandary, there has grown a perception among film workers--and even among Filipino audiences themselves--that a more creative utilization of the budget and resources in the making of a Filipino movie would be the workaround to restrictive financial backing. In other words, local filmmakers have to make do with what little money they have, but must find innovative methods which would lift up local movies to the standard of Hollywood. This is easier said than done, because innovations in the filmmaking process require a whole lot of time to plan and execute. Most of the time, local film workers are expected to produce movies within two months, from scriptwriting to shooting to screening. Timetables this tight could never make room for any departures from filmmaking habits, much less any groundbreaking eurekas. No, the only way to deliver movies this fast to the audience is to stick to time-honored Filipino filmmaking techniques, never mind if the technology is advancing. Local movie workers know by heart that, by going this route, the movie won't measure up to what Hollywood gives us. Whenever the local producers shell out the millions, they expect to earn it back fast.
In stark contrast to this, Hollywood has the luxury of stretching its production schedules. The Spiderman franchise, for example, has shown three sequels so far. Each sequel, from script to screen, would cover two years of production. They could never make Spiderman franchise that good if the filmmakers were given two months to execute each one.
So, taking the cue from these conditions, it can be safely concluded that local film workers are hampered by 1) the lack of adequate capital infusion from local movie producers, and 2) mismanagement of timetables. The question then arises whether local movie workers could produce a movie as smooth and sleek as a Hollywood production if they were given the adequate budget and the proper length of time in which to deliver it to the audience. The answer would be a resounding yes! After working in the Philippine industry for so long a time, I could proclaim that Filipinos are not lacking in talent and artistry when it comes to making grade-A films. However, could a situation this ideal ever come to fruition? Off the top of my head, I can only say, "Not in the immediate future". Local movie producers quite simply can't afford bigger budgets, and won't give in to demands that production schedules be stretched. No, the only way this could happen is if some bigshot rich foreigner would risk the opportunity of co-producing a Filipino movie. That would seem to be quite a stretch of the imagination, of course, but then again, maybe there's no reason not to hope for it.
In the meantime, the Industry's downward trend continues. If it's any consolation, there is still to be found among local movie producers one particular studio which is very much able to churn out at least 10 movie titles per year. That studio is so far the most resilient, and it is refreshing to know that their earnings have been buoyed by a rather enthusiastic audience patronage. However, ten films a year is a far cry from the previous number of titles which other studios like them used to make. In the past, rival studios could each successfully deliver 20 or more movies per year. In this regard, it could be said that this particular studio has achieved something enviable today, but falls far short of what it could be achieving.
One cannot also deny the prevalence of many other circumstances which are eroding the health of the Industry. Movie piracy has become so rampant. The Philippine government's censorship body has so fervently pursued a moral stand so prudish and Victorian, to say the least, that it chokes any chance at all for movie producers to reach out to more mature audiences. Local moviemaking is now a domain very narrowly confined by stiff Hollywood competition, the dangers of hefty revenue loss through piracy, and the ever-absurd dogmatism of censorship.
Plenty of what if questions come to mind. What if cineplexes decide to drastically reduce ticket prices? What if local movies were spared from piracy? What if the government censorship body were abolished? There is also that one more frightening question: Do we really care if the Industry survives or not?
After all, we have already entered the 21st century, and it may be that Philippines movies don't hold the same special place in our society anymore. Plenty of other leisure activities are emerging which are taking the audiences away from the moviehouses. There is the fairly new craze over internet cafes, for instance, and it is all too easy to understand why these centers of gaming and net surfing are sprouting up like mushrooms everywhere, to the point that they are multiplying faster than new moviehouses are being built. Spending two hours in these boutiques is way cheaper than watching a movie. There is an added attraction, too, in that the internet is untrammeled by any form of moral censorship. Cable television is also making it easier to stay away from the moviehouses. Who needs to see the film at the cineplex today when you can simply bide your time and just wait when it appears on television?
One can easily imagine a possible point in the future when the last Filipino movie is produced, after which there will never be any other. That would have to be the saddest day in the history of Philippine movies. It might not have really arrived yet, but is it just around the corner?
It used to be that General Motors sold the most number of cars and car parts in the world. When the American public and the world population in general reversed their habits and bought less and less of General Motors products, the company's revenues sank so low that they had to lay off thousands of workers. These unfortunate workers must have dedicated so much of their lives to their craft and livelihood, and yet, in exchange for years--maybe even decades of service, it became their lot to be rewarded with the loss of their jobs. A host of various factors brought this about, factors which may be both within and outside the control of these workers. But the fact remains that the end result was not desirable, and perhaps even incomprehensible to those very workers.
The same thing has happened to the Philippine movie industry. Where once the Industry managed to produce around 100 movie titles per year, the number has drastically been dwindling as we move closer to the end of the decade. At present, the Filipino moviegoing public can expect only around 40 or so new titles this year, less than half of the previous yearly average.
If you liken this situation to what has happened to General Motors, it simply means that the Industry has been making less, and by necessity has to shed a whole lot of its workforce. Say that, hypothetically, around 50 workers at an average work on one film. That would total to about 5, 000 workers for 100 films ( usually the number of workers per film reaches beyond the 50 mark ). Now, slash the number of films to 40, and you easily see 3, 000 people without jobs. You can imagine a hundred people lined up a city block doing nothing all day. How about 3,000 of them? They would probably fill, oh, about six city blocks.
Which could only mean that the Philippine movie industry as a whole earns a lot less than it did before. Because of this, it wouldn't have enough financial strength to compensate its workers. And with less workers, how can movie producers make more films?
I have worked in the Philippine movie industry myself for over 10 years, and am a personal witness to the steady decline of the Industry. I have seen how so many colleagues of mine have lost their jobs, simply because local movie producers have been making less movies. It saddens me to see them--movie directors, film editors, screenwriters, movie actors--co-workers in the film industry who have dedicated whole lifetimes to their work ( or as some of them would prefer to describe it, their passion ), now left with too little or nothing to do, drifting away like ashes from a dying ember.
The Industry hasn't always been in such a sorry state as this. It was not too long ago when one or two, even three Filipino movies would be showing at the cineplexes for every week of the year, side-by-side with American films. And, like their American counterparts, local films back then did enjoy a considerable amount of patronage. At some indistinguishable point, however, it was slowly becoming apparent that Filipino moviegoers were beginning to avoid local films at the moviehouses, and instead were flocking in droves to Hollywood blockbusters.
The simple explanation for this would be that Filipino moviegoers just got fed up with the sub par quality of local films as compared to that of Hollywood movies. American films have better picture quality and better sound. American movies have better stories. Filipino-made movies simply haven't ever reached the same level of technical and creative excellence. There was a time when we didn't care at all about this difference in quality, but that time is past. Today, in our age of 5.1 digital dolby surround sound, in this age of spectacular technological innovations in filmmaking, Hollywood movies reign supreme and local movies are being left behind.
There had been a time when this difference in quality didn't really matter, because admission prices were more affordable, whether you were going to a Filipino or American movie. However, ticket prices at the box office have been recently skyrocketing. When you choose between two products which have the same forbidding price tag, you normally and logically patronize the better product. In the contest between Hollywood movie wizardry versus the mostly lackadaisical and unspectacular Filipino films, the winner would be very much obvious enough.
Filipino moviegoers readily place the blame on local film workers, who are perceived as unqualified and incapable of matching the abilities of filmmakers in Hollywood.
This finger-pointing, however, is not the exclusive domain of the audience. Filipino film workers themselves decry the fact that local movie producers, or financiers, have never at all allocated the proper budget for their projects. From my personal experience, local film workers have always been yearning to deliver movies to the Filipino audience that would satisfy the demand for Hollywood quality. That yearning remains unfulfilled. Top-notch quality filmmaking, as defined by Hollywood standards, requires top-notch funding in the first place. Local movie producers simply cannot and will never ever allow this. And why so? Hollywood blockbusters have the backing of millions of U.S. dollars as production budgets. Even 100 million Philippine pesos is but a paltry sum compared to that.
Still, the complaint about local movies' scant production budgets is not new. It is, in fact, a perpetual complaint. Local film workers have been struggling with this situation for generations. In trying to break free from this quandary, there has grown a perception among film workers--and even among Filipino audiences themselves--that a more creative utilization of the budget and resources in the making of a Filipino movie would be the workaround to restrictive financial backing. In other words, local filmmakers have to make do with what little money they have, but must find innovative methods which would lift up local movies to the standard of Hollywood. This is easier said than done, because innovations in the filmmaking process require a whole lot of time to plan and execute. Most of the time, local film workers are expected to produce movies within two months, from scriptwriting to shooting to screening. Timetables this tight could never make room for any departures from filmmaking habits, much less any groundbreaking eurekas. No, the only way to deliver movies this fast to the audience is to stick to time-honored Filipino filmmaking techniques, never mind if the technology is advancing. Local movie workers know by heart that, by going this route, the movie won't measure up to what Hollywood gives us. Whenever the local producers shell out the millions, they expect to earn it back fast.
In stark contrast to this, Hollywood has the luxury of stretching its production schedules. The Spiderman franchise, for example, has shown three sequels so far. Each sequel, from script to screen, would cover two years of production. They could never make Spiderman franchise that good if the filmmakers were given two months to execute each one.
So, taking the cue from these conditions, it can be safely concluded that local film workers are hampered by 1) the lack of adequate capital infusion from local movie producers, and 2) mismanagement of timetables. The question then arises whether local movie workers could produce a movie as smooth and sleek as a Hollywood production if they were given the adequate budget and the proper length of time in which to deliver it to the audience. The answer would be a resounding yes! After working in the Philippine industry for so long a time, I could proclaim that Filipinos are not lacking in talent and artistry when it comes to making grade-A films. However, could a situation this ideal ever come to fruition? Off the top of my head, I can only say, "Not in the immediate future". Local movie producers quite simply can't afford bigger budgets, and won't give in to demands that production schedules be stretched. No, the only way this could happen is if some bigshot rich foreigner would risk the opportunity of co-producing a Filipino movie. That would seem to be quite a stretch of the imagination, of course, but then again, maybe there's no reason not to hope for it.
In the meantime, the Industry's downward trend continues. If it's any consolation, there is still to be found among local movie producers one particular studio which is very much able to churn out at least 10 movie titles per year. That studio is so far the most resilient, and it is refreshing to know that their earnings have been buoyed by a rather enthusiastic audience patronage. However, ten films a year is a far cry from the previous number of titles which other studios like them used to make. In the past, rival studios could each successfully deliver 20 or more movies per year. In this regard, it could be said that this particular studio has achieved something enviable today, but falls far short of what it could be achieving.
One cannot also deny the prevalence of many other circumstances which are eroding the health of the Industry. Movie piracy has become so rampant. The Philippine government's censorship body has so fervently pursued a moral stand so prudish and Victorian, to say the least, that it chokes any chance at all for movie producers to reach out to more mature audiences. Local moviemaking is now a domain very narrowly confined by stiff Hollywood competition, the dangers of hefty revenue loss through piracy, and the ever-absurd dogmatism of censorship.
Plenty of what if questions come to mind. What if cineplexes decide to drastically reduce ticket prices? What if local movies were spared from piracy? What if the government censorship body were abolished? There is also that one more frightening question: Do we really care if the Industry survives or not?
After all, we have already entered the 21st century, and it may be that Philippines movies don't hold the same special place in our society anymore. Plenty of other leisure activities are emerging which are taking the audiences away from the moviehouses. There is the fairly new craze over internet cafes, for instance, and it is all too easy to understand why these centers of gaming and net surfing are sprouting up like mushrooms everywhere, to the point that they are multiplying faster than new moviehouses are being built. Spending two hours in these boutiques is way cheaper than watching a movie. There is an added attraction, too, in that the internet is untrammeled by any form of moral censorship. Cable television is also making it easier to stay away from the moviehouses. Who needs to see the film at the cineplex today when you can simply bide your time and just wait when it appears on television?
One can easily imagine a possible point in the future when the last Filipino movie is produced, after which there will never be any other. That would have to be the saddest day in the history of Philippine movies. It might not have really arrived yet, but is it just around the corner?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
After all, he was just a dog...and yet...
When I was so certain that my dog was going to die, I didn't have the heart to take a look. Like any other tragedy, this one also happened rather too suddenly.
No, I don't particularly label myself as a fervent dog lover. When both of my dogs were still alive, mother and son, I wouldn't lavish them with the same attention and affection which I would witness from others I know who would truly qualify as extraordinarily caring pet owners. However, I wouldn't call myself a neglectful pet owner, either. I might not have taken them to daily walks around the neighborhood, but I did feed them regularly, and provided them shelter from the rains. Or I would delegate feeding and cleaning duties to any one of my close relatives ( specifically my younger cousins or my aunt ). And I would take the time to pet them and play with them, even if it wasn't every day. For their part, that mother-and-puppy pair was pretty much very affectionate with all of us, and were able to dutifully follow proper house rules all the time. The mother, surprisingly enough, was even able to toilet-train her own puppy herself, and both of them maintained a strict habit of always using their own designated doggy-toilet area in the house. They were also very dependable guard dogs, even if they hadn't the temperament enough to assault any living person, or possibly even any intruder. Yet, their barks were loud and long, and would easily grab your attention. In short, they were prim and proper, meek and adorable members of the family.
And so we were harmoniously living together, six humans and two dogs, for the better part of a year. Those two never failed to perk up the household everyday, most especially that large 6-month-old puppy, which would never tire of playing catch with you, and always licked you and wanted you to pet him. They were great company when you were sick and tired of the working day. And then, things simply happened.
The mother was netted by the roaming dog catcher one morning. As of that time, I was working on a film project that would often see me arrive home at 7am or thereabouts. When I groggily pushed open the front door to the house that early morning, my cousin promptly told me that the mother dog was gone. Taken by the city government to the dog pound.
I was disheartened. The mother dog had been with us for the better part of 2 years, and her 6-month-old puppy was lonely without her, missing a playmate. At the same time I was infuriated with the mother, since she brought this upon herself. She wasn't the type to roam around the streets, she often stayed indoors because she was usually scared of people and vehicles and other dogs. This time, however, mating season probably got the better of her, which any dog might not be able to resist. It was such a stroke of bad luck to have to lose her to the dog pound.
I wasn't able to retrieve her until five days later, mostly because of difficulties at work. At the same time, I have to admit that I was pooling together the necessary claim money.
One sweltering day, I was able to go to the dog pound. It was an enclosed facility right behind a fire station, and was a sort of lamentably decrepit prison house for dogs--dirty, unkempt, and a generally unsuitable place for maintaining any sort of animal's health. I found the mother in a rather lethargic state, having had to put up with three other female dogs in the same cage. From my vantage point outside the cage, I judged she was frightened of her situation and highly-strung, which would explain her expressionless, almost blank stare when she finally approached me after I urged her towards me with my hand. She had recognized me well enough, but she would not wag her tail.
When the mother dog finally got home, some sort of satisfaction washed over me because of having done something right. After all, this dog was a member of the family, and to bring her back home from what was in all practical opinion something very close to imprisonment was only very proper. Mother and puppy had a very emotional reunion.
I began to notice as the days went by, however, that the mother dog seemed to be having difficulty eating, and still appeared to be lethargic. She would respond to our calls, and would still bark at strangers. And yet...she was weaker, in a way. Her puppy would try to wrestle her and play games, but she wouldn't respond in the same way she used to. I began to wonder if this was the equivalent of prison trauma in dogs. She did spend five days in probably the most inhospitable kennel in the city, in the company of three or four inmates who were, in all probability, unbearably dominant. Was this some kind of stress the mother continued to feel?
The truth behind the matter revealed itself not in the mother dog, but in her puppy. One sunny morning, the household woke up and found the poor puppy uninterested in eating anything, staring out through a haze of torpor, his body refusing to move. He was still alive, we could see that, but he stayed in place, eyes sad, as if suddenly depressed. Staring into his eyes, one could not help but think of human eyes which had just witnessed some startling calamity. My puppy's eyes were distant, but they were pleading, somehow. Except that, he simply did not have the capability to tell us what was wrong.
We all felt the tug inside ourselves. We tried all sorts of things to bring him back to his former vibrant self, and yet nothing worked. His stupor and the state of his eyes continued for three days. He would not eat. He would not play with us no matter how much we urged him. Finally, I thought of looking up his symptoms on the Internet, and what I found there brought home the painful reality that my dog was going to die.
All of the puppy's recent afflictions were classic symptoms of parvovirus infection. Much like being infected with cholera in the case of a person, parvovirus in dogs instantly sentence them to a 50-50 chance of living. How could something as nefarious as this have infected my dog? Then, I remembered the puppy's mother, and how she had been exposed to all sorts of illnesses in the stifling atmosphere of the dog pound. The puppy had acquired the virus from his mother ( out of all possible routes ), who had, in turn, probably caught it from one of the other dogs in the pound. The realization hit me like a brick squarely in the middle of the eyes. I further read, through a haze of denial and incredulity, that parvovirus, if left untreated for more than a day, had a higher fatality rate in puppies compared to older dogs infected with it. The puppy had been harboring the virus inside itself for more than 3 days and two nights.
I finally knew that we were going to lose our treasured puppy. The pet which would always make your mornings more delightful. The dog which was unfalteringly loyal, obedient, and often far better to be around with than some other humans.
And as if in affirmation that fate could very well be cruel whenever it wanted to be, during those moments while I was reading the Internet entries, my puppy reached the lowest ebb of its struggle with the disease, and excreted her bowels to the earth. The final sign of a parvovirus fatality. I wasn't there to see it. I couldn't bear to see it. The smell of necrotic tissue wafted up and spiralled outward all throughout the house. The other members of the household beckoned me to take one look at the puppy, and asked of me what we could do about him. The puppy is outside, they told me. His smell is terrible. They did not know yet about parvovirus. I simply told them that the dog is infected with a virus, and its terrible smelling excreta is a sure sign that he will shortly be dead. It was already night, and I resigned myself to the certainty that when the morning came, our prized dog would be nothing but a carcass.
The next day's grief was palpable. It wasn't entirely the same feeling one would experience if the death in the house was that of a human, and yet, there was a deep sense of loss, all the same. Mornings would be different from now on. A mother had lost her child. The other members of the household handled the situation rather calmly, but tears were shed.
My cousins and my aunt had seen the last dying moments of the dog. They were the ones who, after sunrise, carefully wrapped the body up and buried it in our neighbor's backyard. I couldn't bear taking part in any of it.
I had to ask many excruciating questions of myself. Was I partly responsible? The virus infection was a direct consequence of my bringing home the puppy's mother. I never once thought that it was the mother's fault. I was delayed in claiming the mother back from the dog pound because I didn't have enough resources. To be more specific, I lacked financial resources. Could anything like this have been averted were I, well, richer? It might be a stupid question to some, but it was a question I couldn't avoid asking myself. Was it the dog pound's fault? That they couldn't maintain a clean enough and virus-free facility? When the puppy was already showing visible signs of a serious affliction, we couldn't bring the poor animal to any veterinarian because of, again, financial constraints. The services of a vet would simply require too steep a price. According to the helpful entries on the Internet, a puppy's chances of surviving parvovirus increases if it were brought to a veterinarian at the earliest onset of symptoms. We were discussing the possibility of bringing our puppy to the vet as early as the first day we noticed something amiss about him. However, we simply didn't have enough money to be able to do that. Even if we did manage to scrimp some token amount for the veterinarian's fees, we were certain that the medicine required for our dog would be too expensive, all the same. Any attempt at trying to get a diagnosis for the dog would be fruitless if the medicines could not be obtained.
I very much loved that puppy. I had the sincerest of intentions to reunite him with his mother. But, sometimes, even the best of intentions, and the most caring of actions, could lead to disaster, all the same. Could money have helped? Were its owner a bit richer, would my puppy have been saved? It is a question that still lingers in my mind.
Then again, there are simply so many things in our lives which are simply taken away. You invest so much time, effort, and concern for them, and yet events beyond our control are suddenly the ones in control. My grief may have been for this pet that I wasn't able to save because of my financial situation, but the future might see me torn apart by the same situation concerning a human.
It's a hard life, this life. But hope and faith do have their places here. I must go on.
No, I don't particularly label myself as a fervent dog lover. When both of my dogs were still alive, mother and son, I wouldn't lavish them with the same attention and affection which I would witness from others I know who would truly qualify as extraordinarily caring pet owners. However, I wouldn't call myself a neglectful pet owner, either. I might not have taken them to daily walks around the neighborhood, but I did feed them regularly, and provided them shelter from the rains. Or I would delegate feeding and cleaning duties to any one of my close relatives ( specifically my younger cousins or my aunt ). And I would take the time to pet them and play with them, even if it wasn't every day. For their part, that mother-and-puppy pair was pretty much very affectionate with all of us, and were able to dutifully follow proper house rules all the time. The mother, surprisingly enough, was even able to toilet-train her own puppy herself, and both of them maintained a strict habit of always using their own designated doggy-toilet area in the house. They were also very dependable guard dogs, even if they hadn't the temperament enough to assault any living person, or possibly even any intruder. Yet, their barks were loud and long, and would easily grab your attention. In short, they were prim and proper, meek and adorable members of the family.
And so we were harmoniously living together, six humans and two dogs, for the better part of a year. Those two never failed to perk up the household everyday, most especially that large 6-month-old puppy, which would never tire of playing catch with you, and always licked you and wanted you to pet him. They were great company when you were sick and tired of the working day. And then, things simply happened.
The mother was netted by the roaming dog catcher one morning. As of that time, I was working on a film project that would often see me arrive home at 7am or thereabouts. When I groggily pushed open the front door to the house that early morning, my cousin promptly told me that the mother dog was gone. Taken by the city government to the dog pound.
I was disheartened. The mother dog had been with us for the better part of 2 years, and her 6-month-old puppy was lonely without her, missing a playmate. At the same time I was infuriated with the mother, since she brought this upon herself. She wasn't the type to roam around the streets, she often stayed indoors because she was usually scared of people and vehicles and other dogs. This time, however, mating season probably got the better of her, which any dog might not be able to resist. It was such a stroke of bad luck to have to lose her to the dog pound.
I wasn't able to retrieve her until five days later, mostly because of difficulties at work. At the same time, I have to admit that I was pooling together the necessary claim money.
One sweltering day, I was able to go to the dog pound. It was an enclosed facility right behind a fire station, and was a sort of lamentably decrepit prison house for dogs--dirty, unkempt, and a generally unsuitable place for maintaining any sort of animal's health. I found the mother in a rather lethargic state, having had to put up with three other female dogs in the same cage. From my vantage point outside the cage, I judged she was frightened of her situation and highly-strung, which would explain her expressionless, almost blank stare when she finally approached me after I urged her towards me with my hand. She had recognized me well enough, but she would not wag her tail.
When the mother dog finally got home, some sort of satisfaction washed over me because of having done something right. After all, this dog was a member of the family, and to bring her back home from what was in all practical opinion something very close to imprisonment was only very proper. Mother and puppy had a very emotional reunion.
I began to notice as the days went by, however, that the mother dog seemed to be having difficulty eating, and still appeared to be lethargic. She would respond to our calls, and would still bark at strangers. And yet...she was weaker, in a way. Her puppy would try to wrestle her and play games, but she wouldn't respond in the same way she used to. I began to wonder if this was the equivalent of prison trauma in dogs. She did spend five days in probably the most inhospitable kennel in the city, in the company of three or four inmates who were, in all probability, unbearably dominant. Was this some kind of stress the mother continued to feel?
The truth behind the matter revealed itself not in the mother dog, but in her puppy. One sunny morning, the household woke up and found the poor puppy uninterested in eating anything, staring out through a haze of torpor, his body refusing to move. He was still alive, we could see that, but he stayed in place, eyes sad, as if suddenly depressed. Staring into his eyes, one could not help but think of human eyes which had just witnessed some startling calamity. My puppy's eyes were distant, but they were pleading, somehow. Except that, he simply did not have the capability to tell us what was wrong.
We all felt the tug inside ourselves. We tried all sorts of things to bring him back to his former vibrant self, and yet nothing worked. His stupor and the state of his eyes continued for three days. He would not eat. He would not play with us no matter how much we urged him. Finally, I thought of looking up his symptoms on the Internet, and what I found there brought home the painful reality that my dog was going to die.
All of the puppy's recent afflictions were classic symptoms of parvovirus infection. Much like being infected with cholera in the case of a person, parvovirus in dogs instantly sentence them to a 50-50 chance of living. How could something as nefarious as this have infected my dog? Then, I remembered the puppy's mother, and how she had been exposed to all sorts of illnesses in the stifling atmosphere of the dog pound. The puppy had acquired the virus from his mother ( out of all possible routes ), who had, in turn, probably caught it from one of the other dogs in the pound. The realization hit me like a brick squarely in the middle of the eyes. I further read, through a haze of denial and incredulity, that parvovirus, if left untreated for more than a day, had a higher fatality rate in puppies compared to older dogs infected with it. The puppy had been harboring the virus inside itself for more than 3 days and two nights.
I finally knew that we were going to lose our treasured puppy. The pet which would always make your mornings more delightful. The dog which was unfalteringly loyal, obedient, and often far better to be around with than some other humans.
And as if in affirmation that fate could very well be cruel whenever it wanted to be, during those moments while I was reading the Internet entries, my puppy reached the lowest ebb of its struggle with the disease, and excreted her bowels to the earth. The final sign of a parvovirus fatality. I wasn't there to see it. I couldn't bear to see it. The smell of necrotic tissue wafted up and spiralled outward all throughout the house. The other members of the household beckoned me to take one look at the puppy, and asked of me what we could do about him. The puppy is outside, they told me. His smell is terrible. They did not know yet about parvovirus. I simply told them that the dog is infected with a virus, and its terrible smelling excreta is a sure sign that he will shortly be dead. It was already night, and I resigned myself to the certainty that when the morning came, our prized dog would be nothing but a carcass.
The next day's grief was palpable. It wasn't entirely the same feeling one would experience if the death in the house was that of a human, and yet, there was a deep sense of loss, all the same. Mornings would be different from now on. A mother had lost her child. The other members of the household handled the situation rather calmly, but tears were shed.
My cousins and my aunt had seen the last dying moments of the dog. They were the ones who, after sunrise, carefully wrapped the body up and buried it in our neighbor's backyard. I couldn't bear taking part in any of it.
I had to ask many excruciating questions of myself. Was I partly responsible? The virus infection was a direct consequence of my bringing home the puppy's mother. I never once thought that it was the mother's fault. I was delayed in claiming the mother back from the dog pound because I didn't have enough resources. To be more specific, I lacked financial resources. Could anything like this have been averted were I, well, richer? It might be a stupid question to some, but it was a question I couldn't avoid asking myself. Was it the dog pound's fault? That they couldn't maintain a clean enough and virus-free facility? When the puppy was already showing visible signs of a serious affliction, we couldn't bring the poor animal to any veterinarian because of, again, financial constraints. The services of a vet would simply require too steep a price. According to the helpful entries on the Internet, a puppy's chances of surviving parvovirus increases if it were brought to a veterinarian at the earliest onset of symptoms. We were discussing the possibility of bringing our puppy to the vet as early as the first day we noticed something amiss about him. However, we simply didn't have enough money to be able to do that. Even if we did manage to scrimp some token amount for the veterinarian's fees, we were certain that the medicine required for our dog would be too expensive, all the same. Any attempt at trying to get a diagnosis for the dog would be fruitless if the medicines could not be obtained.
I very much loved that puppy. I had the sincerest of intentions to reunite him with his mother. But, sometimes, even the best of intentions, and the most caring of actions, could lead to disaster, all the same. Could money have helped? Were its owner a bit richer, would my puppy have been saved? It is a question that still lingers in my mind.
Then again, there are simply so many things in our lives which are simply taken away. You invest so much time, effort, and concern for them, and yet events beyond our control are suddenly the ones in control. My grief may have been for this pet that I wasn't able to save because of my financial situation, but the future might see me torn apart by the same situation concerning a human.
It's a hard life, this life. But hope and faith do have their places here. I must go on.
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