A Love Letter to my favorite Gremlin

Tonight, I’m a workie wart. That’s someone who can’t stop worrying about work. So… I think that to disconnect from work, the best thing to do is write another love letter. This time to my curly-haired rascal, Max. 

Dear Max,

You were so unexpected. I remember your first Mommy, R., telling me that her little brother, your real owner, was allergic to you so they were sending you off to Baguio to live with your maternal grandmother. I said (half joking, half serious), “I’ll take him”. She takes a moment to reply, and then says, “Mom says okay!”. And voila. The rest of my life has changed. I took you home in a cab, lugging you around in your heavy cage. You had pooped in the car ride on the way from Mommy R’s house in far-flung South, so I had to first clean your cage before hailing a cab. I guess that was an indication of what kind of adventure we were going to have together – that you were going to do funnily naughty things at the most insane times. I went straight to the vet and had all of your hair shaven off. 

For the nth time…I’m not a pug!

I had to admit, I was pretty appalled at your pug-ish appearance. Even Tita C. and Tito B. had this look of horror that they were unsuccessfully trying to mask. I remember you were not very used to human touch, I think, because when anyone tried to touch you, you would flinch. You were so jumpy. Or maybe you were unsettled in your new home. Now I can pin you down, wrestle with you, bite you in gigil-ness and squeeze you so hard because “you’re so fluffy I could die!” and you won’t even bat an eyelash. 

Lez rock n’ roll!

I have to admit, when you started showing your quirkiness, I started neglecting your Kuya Pogo. Pogo would beg for my attention but I only had eyes for you. I’d get mad at Pogo when he did something wrong but would rarely raise my voice when you became naughty. I played favorites. 

Kuya Pogo on the left, Max on the right

But how could I not? By then, you had become the love of my life. When Dad (your Lolo) and I would have vicious fights, you would loyally take your stand by my foot and become uncharacteristically lambing. At my loneliest, you let my tears fall on your golden curls. I became so attached to you that I could not even sleepover my friend’s house without bringing you. I loved the feeling of your weight on my lap while I drove. I could drive all the way to the farthest point of Pangasinan and you would be as still as a stuffed cuddly toy, warming my lap. 

Max and Clyde squeeze onto my lap

But, it wasn’t until I took you on your first beach trip that I discovered how deep your loyalty is to me. While Pogo and Clyde’s doggie instincts were to swim towards shore, I would release you and you would paddle in whichever direction I was in. Even if that meant I was far, far away from shore. Whilst Pogo and Clyde would still continue to doggie paddle – you know, as a safety precaution – even after I’ve taken them into my arms, you would regain all calmness as soon as I scooped you up. 

“Hey Clyde, what’s under the bed?”

When I went through a terribly devastating break-up, you were my safe haven. Thank you Max, for bringing so much joy in my life. Thank you for making singa on my face every morning, for waiting outside the door, refusing to come into the room when I stay out late, for taking up so much space on the bed that you have more space than Tita C. Thank you for always pointing your butt towards my face whenever you felt the need to fart. Thank you for waiting until AFTER I take shower to poop. So that I can pick up your crap when I’m already spanking clean instead of when I’m still dugyot. You do soooo many crazy things that it’s going to be so hard to one-up you. 

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

How can anyone resist this wacky face?!

Now please stop humping my leg. 

Love, Mom. 


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