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I am always amazed how people create those animated films. Truly imaginative. 🙂
Tag: Animals
General
When he was still five, he could cite the names of the animals and their offspring. In the vernacular, it was an easy task: memorization could be entertaining.
The other week, when he approached me, I could not say if he was just being an smart aleck or seriously making a thought-provoking comment.
At age 11, he’s in fifth grade, old enough to reason out intelligently about any issue that interested him. Of course, I was his favorite sounding board since other people treated him like a small kid. I, on the other hand, listened to him like we were friends.
“Ninong,” he began, stopping near where I worked in the orchard. His grandmother bought him a bicycle which he constantly showed me. He was aware I did not have the talent to ride one. “English is a difficult subject.”
“It is not,” I replied, continuing my chore. “You have to practice a lot just like riding a bike.”
“I am wondering why there are too many words in the dictionary.”
Hah! Good question. It was my kind of topic, something that intrigued me, too, when I was his age.
“Words are created to describe a thing or an action. There are too many things and too many actions so there should be too many words.”
I tried to make my explanation elementary so he could grasp the connection.
“My teacher asked us to name animals.”
“You know them by heart.”
“In Tagalog, yes. But in English I could not. Not all of them.”
“Do you want me to teach you?” I asked, ready to leave my chore to assist him. “I don’t need a dictionary.”
He looked at me, trying to figure out if I was just boasting. There was a time he pointed to me my inability to cook something I earlier told him I could. That was probably circling his mind at that instant.
“Not now, Ninong,” he maneuvered his bike and was ready to leave. “But there’s one thing I want to clarify.”
“Tell me. If I can help you, I will.”
“Why not call all small animals ‘baby’ and just add the names to make our lives easier?”
“You mean, a small dog should be called baby dog?” I laughed, following his logic.
“Yeah! If there are 100 animals, I have to memorize 100 names.”
“And if your teacher asks what their offspring are called, you will add ‘baby’ to the names.”
“That’s about it,” he summed up. “Easier to remember, right?”
How could I explain to him that what he said was valid but unconventional?
“Listen, like in Tagalog, small animals have their corresponding names. You’ve memorized them. It is the same in English. You can memorize them, too, once you are comfortable with the language.”
“My classmate Joey was offended when he learned that a small kangaroo is called joey.”
Now, that’s something to think about.
“Other children picked it up and jumped around calling out his name.”
I surrendered. Perhaps, small children should call small animals ‘baby’ to prevent such misunderstanding. 😀
Better Time
After I posted earlier, something came up that literally took away my blogging momentum. If you have been a regular reader, your guess is correct. 🙂
I have tried time and again to go about my business in the field when I cannot blog. There were times that inspiration came when I least expected it.
Here’s a short tale. It’s my first try at writing a fable. Hope I won’t mess it up. 🙂
– 0 –
“Mommy, look at that big animal!”
Jenny, the hen, kept on scratching the dried soil in search for food, looking for small seeds from flowers and other grasses. She was used to constant comments from her chicks that mimicked her every action.
“That’s Fred,” she replied, glancing at the carabao that soaked its body in the pool of mud. “Keep your distance from him.”
“Why is he in the mud. That’s dirty.”
Suzie was the most inquisitive of her seven chicks and the most vocal. She would often wonder loudly why they were puny compared to other animals.
“He likes it that way. It’s too hot and he needs to cool himself up.”
“Why can’t he move to cleaner waters?”
“He can’t,” Jenny explained. “His master tied him there.”
“Our master does not tie us up. We can go wherever we want.”
“That’s correct,” Jenny agreed. “We can move freely but we should not go further away from the house.”
“You mean, Fred is tied up because he might go away?”
Jenny was beginning to run out of answers. Instead of continuing her scratching, she sat down, a signal for her chicks to come to her.
“His master takes care of him while Fred helps in the fields. If he’s not tied up, he might wander far away in search for food, like we do. That would be problem for his master. Other people might take Fred captive.”
“Why?” she asked, her siblings kept quiet, listening attentively to their mother’s explanation.
“People do that. Sometimes, they take something that does not belong to them.”
“That’s awful!” Suzie exclaimed. “I won’t do such a thing.”
Jenny thought that her chick was satisfied, ending another segment of curious queries.
“Why does Fred’s master not place him near clean waters?”
“His master learned what Fred likes. He likes the mud.”
“Why?”
“Insects like mosquitoes bite his skin. It hurts. The mud will cover his skin and protect it from insect bites.”
Suzie seemed to be thinking of her next question when Fred rose up from the mud, crossed the irrigation canal and wandered near them.
“Do you want something to eat?” Fred’s huge stature dwarfed them.
“Of course,” Suzie replied automatically.
“I’ll lie down and you can eat all the insects pestering me.”
Jenny smiled at the invitation, eagerly leading her chicks near Fred’s belly. They would have a feast.
“You are kind, Fred,” Suzie remarked, eating near his face.
“Yes, I am,” he said. “Just don’t make me angry. I have horns, you know.”
Saving Grace (2)
From the Collection of Short Stories titled, Love Is All Around (Copyright)
Condensed Version
– o –
A freakish summer weather during the rainy season hit the metropolis. With air pollution trapping heat from dissipating, the dry surroundings forced residents to take refuge in malls and other cooler places outside the city.
Other people stayed at home.
From an all-night party Grace attended, she arrived home wanting only sleep. The stand fan on at full blast, she craved for fresher air to make her slumber more bearable.
But the early afternoon rays of the sun would not relent. Without any breeze present, the temperature rose to above normal, nearly reaching 40 degrees Celsius.
Ana, who was downstairs doing the laundry, smelled something burning. However, she thought it was a neighbor setting fire to a pile of trash in the backyard adjacent to theirs. It never occurred to her to check on her older sister upstairs: they had not patched up their differences.
She finished her chores after another twenty minutes, unaware of the conflagration.
When she saw a billow of smoke in the stairway, she became frantic. Grace could still be asleep or already unconscious in her room.
Ana ran out of the house, clutching her cat tightly in her arms, shouting at the same time, calling for help.
– o –
Firefighters from other parts of the city came within minutes after the call was made.
The strong winds that suddenly blew from the east stoked the raging fire even more, quickly engulfing other structures nearby.
Ana’s mother arrived from the market where she tended a small clothing store. Her face showed horror, watching their home slowly eaten by flames.
“Where’s Grace?” her mother asked nervously, not seeing her daughters together.
“I…,” Sienna stammered. She shook uncontrollably. “She’s sleeping.”
“Why did you not wake her up?” she stared at the upper floor windows. “Grace! Grace!”
Ana was unable to answer: she should have tried rescuing her older sister.
Her mother ran to the house but was held up by responding firemen. When she heard the terrifying scream from the second floor, she tried to break free.
“Grace! Grace!”
– o –
“Ouch!”
Awakened, Grace felt the painful scratch on her legs. Only the cat could do such a nasty act.
Ana’s cat, whose fur was singed, stood at her feet. Weak from its heroic deed, its duty to warn her was completed.
Grace smelled the overpowering smoke for the first time. She began to cough.
The fire was eating her bedroom door and the walls separating the second-floor rooms. Exit would be impossible from there.
Panicking, she saw the open window, giving her the only chance to escape a fiery death.
The plywood ceiling was nearly gone. In seconds, her room would look like hell. With no recourse but to jump, she closed her eyes and leaped. With that abrupt decision, she totally forgot to rescue her savior.
Grace landed feet first on the ground, her momentum pushing her forward to the arms of neighbors. Her mother and younger sister excitedly ran toward her, grateful she appeared unharmed.
“Are you all right?” her mother hugged her tightly.
Grace nodded, still coughing. Attending medics checked her for broken bones and bruises.
Ana’s face was clueless. Grace did not want to tell her the bad news.
“I am sorry, Ana.”
Her younger sister saw the scratches on her legs: unmistakably they were from cat’s claws.
“Where’s my cat?” Ana shouted, looking around, recalling her pet was safe earlier. “Where’s my cat?”
Grace sobbed: the question pierced her heart.
“Have you seen. . .?” Ana could not finish, weeping, as she tried not to confirm her initial fear. She looked up from where her sister jumped, hopelessly waiting for her pet to follow.
Grace’s face was filled with sorrow. She tightly embraced her sister, grasping for words to console her.
“Your pet saved me!”
Saving Grace (1)
From the Collection of Short Stories titled, Love Is All Around (Copyright)
Condensed Version
– 0 –
A dark afternoon kept people away from the streets. With yesterday’s forecast of heavy rainfall in the evening, not many dared to risk getting caught in the expected flooding: wading through dirty and polluted water would be a nightmare.
This notion circled in her mind while contemplating whether to escape or not her self-incarceration inside their old and creaky house. Her dissatisfaction living there was pronounced whenever the family discussed relocation to another site, her idea in its entirety.
Their house was not the original structure in that area. The turn-of-the-century ancestral home of the Razons stood there first but it was razed to the ground due to bombing raids during the second world war. Neglected for decades, the rubble was cleaned up under the sole supervision of one of the surviving heirs of the clan.
Her father decided to build a two-story edifice made of hard wood, which was the trend in the 1960s. Inheriting less money compared to other siblings, the property was his for the taking. It was not worth that much back then but at present valuation, the lot alone could fetch more than five million pesos.
That was the crux of their quarrel most of the time: her parents and sister dissented at her idea of selling the place to buy a condominium unit in one of the exclusive sites in the business district. Theirs was sentimentality while hers was practicality.
But in some way, they had a point to gang up on her: it’s her high society mentality which proved too much for them to bear. Humility was a trait practiced religiously by the family.
Why should I live in this dump? That was her constant query.
To get even, especially against her younger sister’s stonewalling, she directed her ire at the family pet. In truth, she had never been keen on sharing the house with animals, pet or not. If they welcomed the feline’s company, she did not.
“Do you have to bring that in the room?” Grace scowled when she saw Anna hugged the cat affectionately.
“Mind your own business,” her sister shot back angrily.
“You know I’m allergic to cats,” she averred.
“No, you’re not,” Ana corrected. “You hated cats.”
“It’s the same thing.”
Ana glared at her without adding another word. She was used to Grace’s crooked reasoning.
On the other hand, Grace celebrated her small victory with an impish grin.
– o –
Grace would not be defeated. She wanted the cat out, by hook or by crook.
As an act of revenge, she resorted to the most wicked plan to get rid of the cat, permanently.
“Let’s see if you’ll survive this,” she mumbled quietly, pouring the mixture of rat poison and sugar to a prepared rice dish. Assorted fish bones were added to complete the come-on meal.
Her sister was out, on an errand. She had all the time in the world to seduce the cat.
At first, the cat demurred her false kindness. It walked around the plate but only to smell the food. Either the portion looked suspiciously more than normal or the person who offered it was untrustworthy.
Grace was furious. It would seem the cat had no wish to subtract a life from its nine.
– o –
She never gave up.
Whenever possible, she repeated the attempt using every type of food she hoped the cat would consume. Even observing Ana closely while feeding the pet, her resolve was unstoppable.
One day, she succeeded. For some reason, her sister failed to clean up the cat’s plate. She simply added her concoction and mixed it well together with the leftover.
The poor animal did not eat for a whole week. Its body body was emaciated because of the lack of food intake. It tried to expel the traces of the poison in its system.
Even though Ana suspected Grace for the pet’s pitiful condition, she had no evidence. But the mere fact her older sister’s emotionless silence at the turn of events was highly suspicious, she simply stopped talking to her.
Ana could only watch her pet’s natural instinct for survival with several trips to the garden, eating certain leaves and grasses. She prayed that that would do the trick.
– o –
(to be concluded)
Carted
“Can you walk a little faster?”
If there was a term ‘zombie stride’ in the vocabulary, I was doing it. The local brew was not effective in waking up my system.
We heard a grating sound, the noise produced when a solid object was dragged on the gravely road. It was slowly approaching behind us.
“Are you going to the sea?” the man riding atop a carabao asked. The animal drew some sort of a cart, a wheel-less attachment made mostly of bamboo, nailed together to form a flat bed, where heavy loads were placed.
“Yes,” I replied halfheartedly. Yet, at the back of my mind, there was an idea that sprouted out once the new arrival showed up.
“Come on! Hop in!” he invited, pointing to the empty cart.
Rolly, who weighed over 80 kilos, had second thoughts. Nearly 70 myself, I believed the animal would have much difficulty dragging the cart if we ride it.
“Thanks! But we’re too heavy,” Rolly explained, shaking his head.
“I’d love to,” I replied. The ride would save us much energy from the long walk.
“My carabao is strong. It’s trained to haul heavier loads.”
Not waiting for Rolly’s consent, I positioned myself on the small cart. When he sat beside me, we almost occupied the entire flat space.
Without meaning no harm, I held the carabao’s tail and pulled it slightly, a childish prank I should have not tried.
Startled, the carabao nearly jumped, its two front feet were lifted a foot up. The rider, who held a short rope attached to the animal’s nose, was nearly unseated.
“Woooh! Wooh!” he tried to steady himself, commanding the animal to take it easy.
The animal did not follow. Instead, it started to increase its strut into a quicker pace. In a few seconds, it ran like a horse dragging its carriage.
“Hold on!” the rider yelled, keeping himself in control of the uncontrollable beast.
Rolly and I clasped the sides of the cart tightly, balancing ourselves so as not to be thrown out.
“This is fun,” I remarked, downplaying my fears of falling off the cart.
“We’re be lucky to get out without a scratch!” Rolly shouted, his eyes straight ahead.
“Wooh! Wooh!” I yelled repeatedly, copying the rider’s command.
All of a sudden, the animal stopped, perhaps tired from the run or perhaps my command had its desired effects.
“That’s strange,” the rider said, trying to figure out what had just transpired. “My animal had not done this before.”
I glanced at my cousin’s husband, signalling him not to tell the truth about the tail pulling.
“That’s okay,” I said, grinning mischievously. “It’s an experience we’ll never forget.”
Rolly controlled his urge to rat me out.
“I think I need to head back home to fix the cart.”
The rider reigned on his animal to take the turn. We saw him scratching his head, still confused of what happened.
“Next time, don’t touch anything!” Rolly walked briskly, scolding me as if I was his child.
“How do I know that that animal had no sense of humor?”
“Will you react the same way if someone pull your tail?”
“I have no tail!”
“So, what’s that in front of you?”
Night Creatures
“What’s that for?”
I was afraid, not scared, and curious why my cousin’s husband picked up a palm-sized rock from the ground. With the faint illumination coming from a disposable lighter with a pilot light, we trudged through the gravely path, not knowing what to expect on the road ahead.
“You don’t get frightened easily, are you?” he asked, glancing around, suspicious of the various sounds that disturb the stillness of the night.
“Nah!” I lied a bit. The specter of encountering a snake, lying in the middle of road did give me the creeps. “I can manage.”
“Grab something to protect yourself,” he suggested. “This is new territory.”
An owl hooted from atop a nearby undistinguished tree. A few seconds later, another hoot. I was not sure if there were two birds or just one repeating the unique call.
“Do you believe in supernatural beings?”
“If I see one, perhaps I will believe,” I remarked with reservations. I did not fancy a meeting at that moment when I was so tired walking for over an hour, carrying a heavy burden.
“If we meet one, I’ll run,” he jested, his voice sounding nervous.
“Don’t wait for me,” I laughed. “I might overtake you.”
A black dog suddenly appeared from nowhere. It passed us by as if we were not there.
“Don’t stare,” he warned. “We don’t know if that’s a real dog.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked angrily. “That’s a dog!”
“You know, somebody might be playing tricks with our eyes.”
I wanted to rebuff his wild theory with sarcasm when an unidentified creature flew overhead.
“Plik! Plik!” The sound was repeated within short intervals.
“I don’t trust that sound,” he confided, looking up, guessing if the creature would come back for another fly by.
“What is it? Tell me!”
“Local beliefs identify such sound as unmistakably coming from an aswang. The hairs on the back of my neck rose a while back.”
“Are you scaring me on purpose?” I asked, trying to banish in my mind the image of a grotesque creature that was believed to capture humans and eat their livers.
Before he could answer, further ahead, the tall grasses on both sides of the road swayed, the rustle was not natural because there was no wind to promote movement.
“This is not good,” he said, walking faster than our current pace. “Quickly!”
I started to jog, my heavy load seemed lighter, the scare perhaps summoned adrenaline to take over. I overtook him.
Then, a huge creature walked out from the grasses. It was black as the night.
I stopped, frozen stiff. When I saw the long horns, I did not know what to do. I began to believe that there were mysteries in the world that humans could not explain.
“Hey! Move on!” he shouted impatiently, a few meters behind. “Haven’t you seen the animal before?”
“Perhaps, someone is playing tricks with our eyes,” I said, unsure why I mimicked his earlier remark.
“That’s a carabao,” my cousin’s husband said. “That means we are near the house.”
Reanimated
(Condensed version. Collection of Short Stories: Love Is All Around)
Ten-year-old Matthew buried his dog of three years near a short mango sampling. His father convinced him that his pet Lanky would help the tree grow strong and bear abundant fruits when the right time came.
“Are you sure, Dad?” he asked teary-eyed, too sad to eat, to the point he skipped two meals just to stay guard near his dog’s burial ground. “He was the best friend I ever had.”
His father nodded solemnly, knowing his son would get over the feeling after a few weeks.
– 0 –
Fifteen years had passed, ten years of education, five years working overseas, two years travelling locally, Matthew came back to his family’s ancestral home. The visit was his first in a very long time.
If he recalled correctly, the sampling where he buried his pet was now fifteen years old. It dwarfed all the trees in the surrounding area.
“We can hear barking at night near that tree,” a low-accented voice interrupted his musings.
“Uncle Rey, I did not hear you come,” Matthew said, surprised that his presence was quickly detected by one of his relatives.
“I saw you arrived. I wanted to call you but it seems you wish to visit your tree first.”
“You mentioned barking. What’s that all about? I am well aware that dogs here are unleashed and free to roam even at night.”
“Come, let’s get closer and I’ll show you something.”
They followed the small pathway that cut through tall grasses, leading to a clearing. The shade of the mango tree almost cleaned a huge circle of growth under it, where the sun’s rays rarely penetrated.
“What do you see?” his uncle asked while pointing to the lower portion of the huge trunk.
“Looks like a dog’s face,” he observed. ‘Don’t tell me this is what you suspect barking at night?”
His uncle smiled, trying not to force him to believe.
“Do you see any specific feature you might remember from your past?”
Scrutinizing Nature’s sculpture much closer, he gasped. “It can’t be!”
“Now you remember. Do you think I am just imagining things?”
“Lanky!”
Matthew stared at the image, recalling what his father told him back then.
“You see, when the barking begins, dogs in the vicinity would converge on this spot. They’ll howl alternately, often times giving us the creeps. Rural folks still believe in supernatural phenomena, how dogs are supposedly seeing spirits roaming.”
“I am still a believer” Matthew agreed. “But, I always had Lanky protecting me during those times,” he added, reliving his fondness for old pet.
“Anyway, we got used to it,” his uncle laughed. “Besides, no burglar dared walk this area at night. Ever.”
“Is that so?”
“Even if burglars are not afraid of dogs, I believe they are more scared of ghosts.”
Matthew touched the trunk as if the image was real, patting it on the head.
“Thank you, Lanky! You always know how to protect us, your family.”
Chat
Have I related to you before that I took a correspondence course in journalism? It was a short one, introduced locally. I was aware the school has international links that back then I thought it would be my stepping stone to the world of news coverage.
Nope! That did not materialize. Another wishful thinking from the thousands I possessed since childhood. 😀
Anyway, I tried my first interview this morning. I decided to do a one on one talk with my cat. Yeah, you read that correctly!
Here’s an excerpt:
belsbror: You sit here today as my guest of honor. Do you have something to say before I ask you questions?
fry: meow (licking its right paw)
belsbror: That was short but I understand why. Do you like living here with me?
fry: (looking straight at me) meow (then turning head from left to right)
belsbror: Is that a no? Or does your neck hurts like mine?
fry: meow (strangely nodding slowly)
belsbror: Hmmm! I am confused. Is that your answer to the first or second question?
fry: hmmm (mimicking my sound)
belsbror: Do you want to eat now?
fry: meow, meow, meow (possibly a resounding yes)
belsbror: This interview is not finished, I want to ask you more questions?
fry: (turning head from left to right once more)
belsbror: You are hungry? Can’t wait, aren’t you?
fry: (head nodding repeatedly)
belsbror: Okay, one last question. Do you like me?
For an answer, fry suddenly jumped straight at my right hand, grabbing the newly-fried fish in a flash, running outside the door to a hidden spot.
The interview has ended.
Choosy
Yesterday, after the neighborly visit and the unsuccessful online entry, I stayed indoors, trying to make the hours productive.
I sat down to do some writing. Minutes later, the cat kept passing under the chair, pressing its body on my legs as if telling me something it needed to do.
I stood up from my chore and walked straight to the door. I suspected the cat wanted to go out and do its thing on its favorite sandy spot near the potted plants.
The cat followed but it did not go out. Instead, it continued its earlier motions, confusing me in the process. It acted strange, I thought.
What was the cat up to? Did it want to play like one of my godchildren? Did it need petting?
The clocked registered 12 noon. When I glanced back at my cat, it seemed to be nodding as if saying, “Yeah, that’s right, man. It’s lunch time.”
Oh, I almost forgot. The cat and I shared a familiar similarity: we were routine followers. We did things regularly that if an activity was not done on time, it would spoil the overall schedule of the day.
I had leftovers from breakfast so I decided that cooking would have to wait before supper. Besides, I was not that hungry. (I only eat when I am hungry.) I could just give the cat my share.
Well, that plan did not work. The cat did not touch the food, especially the fried fish which was one of its favorite. Was the food spoiled or something? It was cooked just a few hours earlier.
I stared at my cat, trying to decipher what it really wanted. I knew it wanted to eat but what?
Then, I idea occurred to me. I believed I knew what to do.
Five minutes later, the cat had a feast, the same food I served earlier. The main difference was that I reheated it.
belsbror 