In the past year and a half, I’ve become a parent to a dog named Magnus. By most standards, he’s a mostly okay dog. Kind of cute, not that smart, totally into hanging out with the neighborhood askals.That’s what most people probably think when they see him — four legs, a tail, and not much else. Not to me, though. To me, well, he’s the greatest. And my adoration is apparent in the way that I manage to insert any mention of him in every topic with every person I meet. Even my Uber drivers have not been spared. One time I was typing an Instagram caption on my phone when I started tearing up, so much so that the driver spoke up and asked if I was all right. “Kuya, yung aso ko…” I said between sobs.
“Namatay na siya?” he asked. At a stoplight he turned to me, scandalized and concerned. “Hindi,” I said, crying even louder. “Birthday kasi niya today!!!”
Passenger rating: 2.3 stars.
It’s like I’ve become one of the most annoying people on your Facebook timeline, the ones whose shamelessness is comparable only to those who still send Clash of Clans requests on Facebook: new parents, the ones who upload albums upon albums of their kid’s face. They do it every day, as though we’re begging them to give us a blow-by-blow of every questionable milestone. Please tell us all about baby’s first diaper rash. Or baby’s first Gerber disaster. Where’s baby’s first poop? There are approximately negative-three people in the world who care what your baby’s first poop looks like. Report yourself as abuse and get that thing out of my face.
Well, parents, I get it now. I get it, because I, too, am obsessed with publicly documenting every moment of my dog’s life, which I totally have the right to do because he’s way cuter than the human you just ejected. (I kid, I kid.) Magnus, my canine progeny, is the best, period. There is nothing else in this world that I am prouder of than being the mom to a Siberian Husky, Japanese Spitz mix. (Yes, my dog’s totally Chinito. I’m sending him to Xavier when he turns five.)
The funny thing is that I never thought I’d bring a dog into my life. I used to socialize strictly with the two-legged clique. Then one day my old boss decided to get a Cocker Spaniel because he said, “This dog will stay with me until I die.” I realized, holy crap. Who’s gonna be with me until I die??? My husband will probably be old and rich. I’m definitely surviving him in our drafty Bavarian castle. So then I thought it was time to get myself a dog.