My childhood dog | My adolescent dog | My manhood dog |

The Dogs of My Life

Chronicles of my personal, emotional encounters with my dogs past

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Explanation

What?!

  • People say, "Dogs are men’s best friends"
  • I say, "It depends. There’s a Chinese saying – the ignorant dog bites the good. Those who got bitten would never say so"
  • Those on the low say, "It’s a dog’s life"
  • I say, "How do you know? You are not a dog … yet"
  • Those on the up say, "All dogs go to heaven"
  • I say, "Might as well … if it’s loaded with food, territories, other dogs & … free from ticks"
  • Some treat dogs like lovers, others treat them as snacks & punching bags, while the rest do not seem to bother
  • I’m glad to realize that the dogs that I have come across, lived with & ate with have left good impressions in me
  • They are The Dogs of My Life

Hope this is a joke

  • It might well be …
  • But to me, these dogs that have struck me from birth to manhood are teeming with will, living robustness, strength & mind you … character

Care to introduce them?

  • As they say, "one step at a time"
  • So, let’s take it from the start
  • A long, long time ago, in a village way, way hidden in Kranji …

My childhood dog

  • I am a Dragon baby, born in the Chinese Horoscope Dragon year, i.e. if I’m not senile, 1976
  • The 70’s is the decade of nation-building for Singapore
  • This translates into massive fervent job-hunting for all able-bodied people like my father who was then in his late 20’s
  • Everything is lacking – jobs, money, food, water, medicine, houses, roads
  • Life, on the technical side, is what we would call "a dog’s life"
  • Back home, in my kampong single-storey hand-made house with a dark attar that I’m always afraid of (as a boy of course)
  • I’m growing up as a plump baby boy in a big family – let’s go through:
  • My father, mother
  • My uncle (father’s 2nd elder brother), my auntie (his wife), my small aunt (father’s 2nd junior sister)
  • My grandmother
  • My dog – it is a she, fun-loving, ever ready to cuddle with me – I still can feel her beside me sometimes
  • If I’m not wrong (I’m no bigger than a month then), my family make it a big event during my first month birthday – Chinese view the first month of birth as the threshold for healthy infant
  • There was this photo taken of me lying belly-down on the family table out on the lawn in front of our house – this is special, the photo is coloured (in those days, color photos are hard to come by & definitely not cheap, especially to us - & my family just make it for me)
  • On the back of that photo are the Chinese words of the date & my age in lunar terms written by my father – in his best writings I guess (he must practiced it a few times) – they look to me to be perfect
  • Those were, U can say, the days
  • Frankly, I truly believe that I’m the luckiest & best cared for baby in the world – I have the best father, the best mother, the best grandmother, the best relatives, the best bed, the best house playground
  • The world is for me & I’m for the world … everywhere is discovery … mimosa on the ground … birds in the day … fireflies at night … house lizards from the ceiling (mother always screamed when any one comes near or worse drop on her) … the catfights/dogfights at night … the monthly opera in front of my house (Chinese believe the 1st: moonless & 15th: full moon of every lunar month are periods of ghosts & gods – the realms other than humanity) … the temple (the shrine on top of the small hill in front of my house where celebrations were held together with the opera … in those days, I witness many things … the crowded gathering of worshippers … the dense cover of burning joss … the fortune telling with sacred sticks … the real big snakes in the cage) … my own swordplays (which I used to learn & aptly display in front of my relatives – mind you, I have my own super-sword – which I truly believe to be the one for me & I’m for it) … my ferocious milk-drinking/bed-urinating … my jumping on the bed (till a main beam cracked – I’m still lighter than dumb-bell then – maybe it’s not me, right) … the rambutans (I learnt to pick from the ground of course, there were plenty of them) … the papayas (which my grandmother sold together with the other fruits, eggs, fish & poultry) … the jackfruits (I seldom go for them – they don’t seem to attract my attention & their place is always damp, dark, itchy & make me feel repelled) … the durians (I’m specifically trained to follow only the walking paths that are safe from the durians that drop off from 20-30m high up – my grandmother had been struck by a dropping durian once & stayed in hospital for over a week – mind you the height & the spike are not tolerable to the weak) … the pond (which I was told to keep clear off, so I end up not able to swim, unlike my father who is an underwater submarine & the creatures on the pond surface are truly fun) … the well (where we get our drinking & bathing water … I always wonder why the well always has water no matter how much we take from it … I know now it is due to rain & groundwater table – the well water marks the groundwater level … taking water from the well always fascinates me – lowering the pail into the well with a rope & whipping it in a way that the pail just scoops up water from the well is my first lesson in manual art … I remember once I urinated not at the toilet which is beside the well, but right into the well - & got severely punished for it, so much so that I never dare to do it ever again) … the slope in front of the house (where my cousins who are born in the subsequent two years & I used to compete who can shoot urine the furthest … & fertilize the furthest plants … & of course, we need not cover ourselves, everywhere is dense tropical foliage) … the poultry (where roosters cock out loud, hens clack, the place stinks with urine & faeces … the laying home where the hens lay eggs … more than once, I got away with scaring the hens) … & of course, the mosquitoes (all of our beds have mosquito nets)
  • Hmm … I seem to be deviating … I remember I live at the kampong for the first four years of my life … so I guess I sort of got adopted by my elder female-dog as a surrogate pup
  • She was already settled at the house at the time of my birth … my grandmother reared her & probably other dogs for safety reasons – dogs bark at the slightest hint of unfamiliarity
  • Her face I can’t clearly remember … but she is dark brown that’s for sure … whenever she sees me, her tail is always wagging … ferociously wagging … I always like that … that means I’m welcome & she loves my company
  • She keeps licking me also … standing on her hind legs & leaning towards when I was bigger … she wants to come to my face which she likes a lot
  • In fact, she only wags her tail that hard in front of me & my grandmother … I consider myself very privileged … my grandmother took good care of her, just like any other animals & trees on the farm … she’s an excellent farmer, housewife & grandmother, the best & I have her as my grandmother
  • The female-dog (I never gave her any name … I was not articulate or anything … so I guess we just know each other … by scent, by touch, by breadth, by just sitting & playing together
  • She was great at playing … running faster than me … it really helps when I’m such an energetic kid – remember what they say new kid in the block
  • The most memorable & emotional (not crying, but truly totally feeling) moments with her were the sitting & resting times … those would always be with me … no one can take that away from me or her … she knows it from her eyes … it is hard to describe … I have never got that kind of feeling ever since … it’s like waiting but not waiting … it’s not relaxing but not stationary … it’s like playing but not moving … it’s like caring but not saying … we like to sit at her place just outside my room on the outside of the house facing the entrance … I guess we were simply watching the scenery go by … she always like to lay her legs & chin my lap … & I would sleep on her sometimes … then my mother would carry me back … my mother doesn’t like her to be too near me … she thinks the dog is filthy … but I never felt so … what is this feeling I may never truly know again … I would always love her for it
  • She’s a tough dog … mind you, in those days, dogfights are serious stuff … not the pup-walk today … dogs live & die in fights to mate … she was pregnant shortly after I moved to my old Marsiling 4-room flat … but I still come back frequently whenever there’s a chance … transport was not good & we have walk for half-hour to reach my house
  • Eventually she gave birth to pack … my grandmother only pick one - a male dog, to stay behind … the rest she gives away … we don’t need that many anyway
  • I remember I held my fourth or fifth birthday at my kampong house … there were a lot of people & relatives … but I still chose to play in front of the guests … afraid that I get too dirty & untidy (I’m supposed to be the star) … my mother finally pulled me in & chased her away … later on, I figure that my grandmother must have chained her away somewhere, as I can’t her at all … not to worry, I got lots of children to play with
  • Since I moved, I only get to see her intermittently … but a dog can only live for so long … not forever … it seems everything is destined …
  • One day, in my sixth year, my mother told me she has died … of course, I don’t get her … I don’t know what is death … so I just nod my head & forget it … she must have been sleeping for all I know … until then & even later until my manhood do I not realize the emotional impact that death has on people
  • My mother later brought me to the my house (I think it should be some time later) … I went to our favourite place & she was not there … only her son, the young male bull dog, is there … I was puzzled … in the past, she would be the first to pounce on me … now I feel left behind … something is not right … I immediately went to ask my mother & my grandmother … without a word, they took me down into the bayao, along the safe walking path to the garbage pond where my grandmother used to throw dead matter to decay & become fertilizer for the plants … I can’t remember exactly what they said to me … it’s something like she is down there at the bottom … but I just stood there at the very edge of the dung pond … but she didn’t get up … it was all very quiet … sometimes with the slight breezes … our feeling is welling but now it is incomplete … something that until then, I have not felt before … until that point of my life, I have never felt loneliness … I have never felt left behind … without the wagging tail … without the licking tongue … without the pouncing legs on the stomach & shoulders … without the familiar sitting & playing that has accompanied us for so long … for once, I think I have truly felt loss (if I may articulate it that way) … the longer I stood there the more our mutual feeling is being replaced by the loneliness … a kind of deep sadness … strangely I didn’t cry (I would if I got cut or sick, where I can get relief from the pain & agony) … I didn’t think of crying … my mother & my grandmother were both standing there with me, afraid that I might slip … their emotions turn from caution to concern to observant to boredom to calm … as they left me at the pond … my mother went slowly back to the house, seemingly pondering my strange behaviour … my grandmother stayed behind, but she kept doing her farmer’s work … but always staying close to me … keeping an eye on me perhaps … all this time I just stood there … frankly my mind is blank … I got tired standing, I squatted … I got tired of squatting, I stood … eventually the mosquitoes chase me back the house … from that day on, I know forever that I have lost my childhood companion dog – the one & only one in the world that I ever have

My adolescent dog

  • Every Singaporean has to perform military training … willing or unwilling
  • Like the young men of my age, I was conscripted so to speak into the army on … 29th March 1995 … yap, I still remember it quite well … my family was there … my high school (called junior college in Singapore) classmates were there (those who are free or have finished the first phase of training) … they really come to send us off … of course, we were quite numb at that time … what, with so many people, walks of people, styles of people, manners of people … to stay together, live together, wash together, train together & fight together … makes me not want to wonder too much … I thought of keeping a low profile … like those in fire hazard … keeping low for more oxygen & less smoke
  • The basic training is the toughest training of my life until that time … it was exhausting … physically, I not quite up to the demand & exercising has not been my priority since childhood … remember, I used to pounce until my parents’ bed got cracked … well, there was eons ago … during the interval, I was too engrossed in studies, grades, competition & frankly, playing selfish … playing has degenerated into exercising … degenerating into timed, focused & planned acts designed & intended to get what I’m supposed to achieve … the fun, carefreeness, calming & basically the feeling has gradually deteriorated ever since the death of my childhood dog … it might be absurd to attribute all these to the death of my dog … but after so many years of pondering, thinking & carefully feeling, I believe I have sorted out this portion of my life’s puzzle … that the feeling that my childhood dog has given me is the basis of my belief & autonomous system … in short, I’m coming into the military at the worst possible time for the military
  • Needless to say, I’m soon dragging myself through the whole thing … the unknown, the military rules, the regiments, the discipline, the drills, the terms used, the mode of operations, the living & bunking together … I especially find the team environment difficult, almost unbearable … though I never really speak thoroughly with anyone before … not even my mother, whom I cried during my first call home in the army camp … I was, u can say, depleted, deteriorated, damaged & demoralized … on the brink of breakdown … yet my philosophy is to keep a low profile … & I keep it firmly … so I didn’t create too much disruption to military lifestyle … everyone likes smooth-flowing training, doesn’t it? … there are few dogs anywhere … cause there are already so many in greens
  • Later, I was sent to military police for specialized training so to speak … from the MP motto u can see the idea of the training style – Pride, Discipline, Honour … training was quite tough … a bit more than those sickly clerks … a bit less than those mighty commandos … basically, we have become more tuned to the military style & rhythm … there were more things to learn in shorter time … academically, the soft side of military & law … technically, the regimental, hard side of safety, security & swiftness … we were trained for the motto … we shouted it morning, noon & night … before meal & after meal … before sleep & after sleep … the motto & training are expected to be integrated into us … as a dutiful student, I live up to these expectations … keeping my profile yet standing up at crucial moments … I was labeled a problem soldier … my mother is down with terminal-stage malignant lung cancer in hospital … my grandmother has just passed away … I don’t look strong … my skin is too light to look healthy … my voice too light to, as they say, hold up the boat … like I say, it is the worst possible time for the worst possible training of my life … & I’m in the middle of it … coming from months of basic training … & not daring to think of the even more months ahead … & the unknowns … I can safely say I’m quite numb to everything … maybe that’s how people learn to take more pains yet not complain
  • Life was a bit better … the grounds are better – sloping, green, hilly, quite scenic especially in the morning – with the dew & birds chirping … I realize that the feeling is gathering in me … though I’m too numb to acknowledge at that time … the food is better – MP camp cooks are reputed to be the best in the business … though I have tasted food in fewer than three or four camps … I agree totally … it makes life a bit more tolerable with good food … when the numbness of my body is replenished with these nutrients … I heard they add things into the food to make us stronger … if that’s true, it backfires the military training … on the other hand, if it makes food more tasty, well why not … hope no long-term detrimental effects … but the foods make me know I’m a born glutton … if I don’t think too much … like in my army daze … numb to everything … I eat a lot … it really keeps up the spirit
  • The training is half regimental & half military … regimental in the drills, parades & SOPs … military in the obstacle course, firing, unarmed combat & field events … everyone doesn’t like the training of course … but it is this feeling that we are in the same boat that soothe many conflicts … seeing the sacrifices that some would make for others not known for more than a few days or weeks really a power throttle to the rest of us … I’m glad to say that everyone has on different, always situations help in one way or the other … whether by bobo, by joke, by bravery, by endurance, by strength, by spirit, by character, by idea, by action … for once, I suspect I seem to be feeling something – I’m beginning to feel with these heterogeneous people … something I have been numb to for years & worsened in the past few months … the feeling is welling inside me
  • As the Chinese say, "There is no banquet in the world that lasts forever " … like it or not … the day came for us to split, so to speak … I have been informed to be sent to GSMB … I’m as puzzled as everyone else where everyone else is going … but I know I’m going somewhere … Lucky or not, I’m the first to be sent off … the driver must be dutiful … he came straight for me … I left without turning my head back … heartless to my comrades … maybe … but this heartlessness takes nothing away … yet adds to the drama of military life … at that moment, it seems all the regiments, all the training, all the shouts, firing, laughter, sighing have come together … into a rojak of emotions … really explode … the quivering feeling that originates from the base of my spine … vibrating upwards across the shoulders … & into the head … I feel numb … not from training … but from the emotions from comradeship … I now understand the true meaning of camaraderie … & why many prefer to be in camps rather than out in the world at large
  • I was sent to GSMB 2nd company Seletar camp section … subdividing into smaller divisions … divisionism … that’s what the military is all about … & in Seletar camp, I finally met my adolescent dog that awaken the feeling in me that I thought I have lost … but is in fact buried within … covered the marshes of my intense preoccupation with surrounding events
  • The camp was a dilapidated one … the place was comfortable … the amenities abundant … the food sufficient, but nowhere compared to the MP’s … unlike my childhood dog which care absolutely for me … I met an angry bull dog that hates me … barks at me immediately when I step near the guardroom … seems like there’s not going to be anything between us … he really does not like me … I wonder if it’s the smell … or the unfamiliarity … or the unfeeling
  • He was called Ranger … the name given by our seniors who have since left the camp termed ORD … he was not some big, muscular pit-bull that rushes to bite … in fact, he looks quite common … could have a stray … he was in golden hairs with white spots around the eyes, mouth & belly … frankly, he was quite handsome for strays … he was fed by us with those cookhouse food leftover in metal can … & water in another … there was no doghouse … he slept in the same bunk with us separated only by our metal cupboards … he was of course chained in house in the day … lest he goes biting at strangers & worse, fellow company officers … we only unleashed him at night … when no one is supposed to around normally … he helps to prowl & alert us of strangers that we cannot detect at once … on more than one occasion, he has saved me from spot-checks by the officers
  • Like to emphasize … his keen sense of smell is fantastic … that he smelled me at first … without visuals or audio … he can sense & alert us of unfamiliar smells … his nose is excellent … what’s more he has great sanitary etiquette … never urinates or stools in house … but he would around the guardroom & we have to warn him of that … I heard that he was severely trained for the dog that he is now that I’m looking at … there was a pull-up bar in front … we used it for training of course … but my seniors have used it to train Ranger also … whenever he was not obedient, he would be mercilessly hung from the bar with his hind legs tied to the bar … he is literally suspended like that in cattle slaughter house footage that we witness during the mad-cow scare around that time … of course, he whines like a sad dog … but he learns … slowly these supposed tough mindless training put him stronger & mindful … know what can do & what cannot do … is that how people train those that cannot understand them … I can only guess
  • My real break came when a fellow mate told me to wash Ranger … oh my, isn’t that asking to be bitten … surprisingly, no … he was always happy when someone takes the chain from the anchor & leads him outdoors … I think he feels extremely bored indoors … normally, he would bark at me … but when I loosen the chains & lead him out … he was willing, happy (with a sly-looking widened smile on his dog face) & not barking … of course, the first thing he does was to look for a right place to pee … mind you, he does not do it anywhere … I see that he deliberately, carefully & mindfully smelled different locations … & urinates some … but he does not empty all … I’m always amused to see & imagine just how much urine he purposely stores up to pee in such planned manner … he also passes his stools deliberately … whenever he finishes them … he always take mind to smell his dung … & kick some grass over it … it is widely known that dogs smell & sometimes eat their own faeces … we can’t judge other species’ behaviours with our perceptions … I guess he might find something to eat … he might also find out how he is physically … I also see him eating, as in chewing grasses, along the way during our prowl around … my fellow mate guessed that he was chewing herbs from the grounds … if that’s true, he is doctor dog or dog doctor … we have a doctor on our grounds … unfortunately, I never take note of those grasses … but coming back to the bathe … I took him straight into the toilet … chained him up … he really looks like pup … whining & begging for his release … now I know he is afraid of water … if things vie out of control, water would keep him in … talk about dogs that swim … Ranger definitely is not one … he’s scared stiff of water … especially the eyes … he doesn’t want any to get into his eyes … so do I … think it’s painful … I wash him up & down … then release him … he sprang out … I nearly lost hold of the chain … he flings himself dry & went straight back indoors to lick himself dry … I realize later that this is not good, the dampness would be harder to remove indoors … I should dry him in the dry for a while … I think the dampness make him itchy … his body, as in from head to toe, is littered with ticks … maybe the dampness amplifies the itchiness … but whatever it is, Ranger & I are friends
  • In the days of my military, this is a period of steady working without strenuous physical exertion … only for the physical fitness test – IPPT … & later on the firing test … my main task is just to secure my camp … nothing else … this gives lots of room & space to roam around freely even during prowling … my numbness has been laid to rest … I like the rhythm (as Jordan used to say) … one day on, one day off … on off days, I gave tuitions, tidy up my life & prepare for my university days … in camp, Ranger & my fellow mates are always there … rain or shine … day or night … exercise or work
  • Ranger, as a male dog, also goes out … at night of course … searching for mates … but he’s an old dog … those young bitches might not like him … they like the strong & the energetic … we were often treated to free-shows of other dogs near our guardroom … Ranger is a street-wise dog … he knows the in’s & out’s of different places … our camp is his entire territory … he picks out exactly what he wishes … the night is his … but he always comes back … despite the chaining, the beating sometimes, the training, the washing … mind you, he can jolly well run off … but he always comes back … guess he doesn’t get anything elsewhere … food is really important … he always comes back maybe for the food … maybe the shelter … maybe his grounds … maybe us
  • We have lots of escapades together … the prowls often turn into exciting rendezvous with different creatures that we don’t see in urban places … like the birds … some exotic species … some are hens running around … there was once a bird hen runs into the toilet … I lock it in … excited, I called Ranger in … he totally changed into a hunter … once he trains his eyes on the bird, he doesn’t let go … he went after it … so focused was he that he often ignored our commands … he always get carried with chasing little creatures … the bird was of course killed by his bite … but the chase is exciting … from then, I took him for hunting during prowling … I guess it excites & exercises him … the lizards on the fences … he goes for anything that moves … when he’s in that mode of chasing these, he’s just a damn bundle of speeding fur … it was absolute fun … a bean in dog’s skin, so to speak
  • I remember on the outside of the camp, there are streams where the monitor lizards live & hunt for those drain fishes … we have pass through there during prowling … but it was fun … those monitor lizards often climb up from the drain streams on the road where we prowl … it was real exhilarating chasing those big lizards … some easily more than a metre long … with those long claws & comically swift wagging motion … & they are just simply real fast … even faster than Ranger who dashes straight for them whenever he detects them … he can smell them & they can smell him (their tongues are super) … sometimes I got tired of chasing … instead we ambush them … applying a bit military tactics so to speak … we hide quietly for some ignorant lizards to pounce on … some lizards are senile … once we ran into one … but the grounds are different … everywhere was fenced except the way we came … so the lizard was trapped … u know what it did … it dived straight into the nearby pool … it might well be just a puddle … the staff just dug for their fishes … this fellow just dives in to hide from us of course … he thought we are drought ducks … maybe for Ranger in bathing mode, that is … when I alert him to that fellow … he also dives in without second thoughts … it was thoroughly amusing to watch how tackles the monitor lizard (~1m) about as long as he is … & how he always takes care not to get water into his eyes … if the lizard had known that, Ranger might not get him … but the fool is a fool … he thought by hiding in those super shallow water, he can get away … fat hope … Ranger dives & tackles … I assists by poking rods into the lizard … eventually it was really killed … but we were both bloody but happy … he was panting up & down … we were totally exhausted …
  • Ranger also has a liking for rats … there were so many that I would actually try to step on one … especially near the rubbish bins & Ranger’s meal bowl … so we did the next best thing – bring in the mouse trap … those that can be bought in animal or pet shops … the trap is rectangular box with clinger where the food (or bait) is hung … once tugged depending how hard, the gate (the only opening into the box & the food) would snap shut … the rat would be trapped in there … I caught a lot in this way … so many so that I try experimenting with them … I discover that Ranger likes chasing rats whenever he sees especially at night … his nose easily detects their scent … so I got him & the trapped rat into a locked room … & literally open the rat gate into Ranger’s open jaws … the rat sometimes need to be thrown out … they were clinging for their lives … it was damn fun watching Ranger catching the rats … they are swift, easy to suddenly change directions & quick to hide … Ranger in comparison is slower to turn & change direction … but he got quick bites … on more than a few occasions, I kick the rats into him to make it quicker for him … almost all rats treated this way by us were dead in the jaws of Ranger
  • If that’s exciting, this one is the greatest … the climax of our escapades … in fact, all my fellow mates came to help out … the intruder – a giant king cobra … fresh after giving birth … & hungry … it was huge … at least 2m length … I discovered it sliding towards the staff room on a weekend … so luckily there was no one in … but I can’t let it through … I tried striking it with a stone … wow, the reaction is textbook stuff … it immediately sprang up its trademark serpent stance … those two muscles on either side of its shoulders open … the "eyes" opening up in warning … it hisses strongly … not the cute innocent sounds of those small petite snakes … but the real angry, deep-throated himss of a king cobra … it was so deep I know it was ready to kill if necessary … I ran off to get fellow mates & Ranger to help … fun to say … we just grabbed anything … sticks, rods, branches along the way … it was like going for a strike … when we arrived, luckily it was still there … its head has now shrank back to normal … & sliding away … so we sort of caught up … threw whatever we had at it … it was angry … but slowly it slide down into a nearby drain … the turning point of our battle … the drain was open & the slope is high enough to avoid its attacking fangs … another stupid creature … nonetheless it was angry … its head is up, strong hissing, fangs open ready to strike … fast … though we had the cobra holed up so to speak … we need to kill it … just in case it is dangerous … it was only later on that we realize that the cobra is nursing … & needs food … people are not suitable … there plenty of rats around for them … but it was just too insecure to have cobras as pets … we have to kill it & its off-springs as well … but first this giant cobra … Ranger was excited … running here & there, barking … luckily he didn’t try to bite it … it was the king of bites … even a child knows that from the animal chess … we also shouting him away … he was useless against it … but he eventually come very close … in fact, dangerously close to the cobra which was up & ready to strike … this damn Ranger just keep climbing in … we were not ready to pull him as there was a real danger … the cobra sensed that Ranger was coming too close … Ranger himself was not very firmly supported on the slopes … the cobra strikes … luckily it was not a bite … it spits (cobras are known to spit venom at targets, maybe as warning before a bite) … the spit (venom) goes right at his weak spot … the eyes … the cobra knows … Ranger immediately whines … & backs off … luckily he still has his other eye (only one is struck by venom) & he backs away correctly … upslope & to safety … where he whines, scratches & literally becomes his bathing mode … we were shouting at the top of our voices … luckily or not … the camp was deserted … so no commotion was created … we still continue to throw rocks … maybe now we feel angry & become more united at attacking the cobra … our comrade Ranger was mortally injured … by now, the cobra feels threatened … & it might have depleted its supply of venom … it tried to slide into an impossibly tight hole of the open drain … well, a snake without a head is like an ostrich digging its head into the ground … it was stupidity at the utmost … we saw our chances & knowing it would not bite & strike with its head in the hole … we aim & drop sharp rocks at the cobra body … the killer strike was by me … a sharp spike from a 2m height … into the slimy body … a snake has not backbones … its body is unprotected … hence its weak spot … so, remember fight a snake from its back, away from its head … after that spike, it slides for a while & stop … we were cautious not to touch for the whole day until the next day when everyone comes back … it was the greatest escapade of my life … with Ranger
  • His eyes? … ooh … remember we have a doctor dog … the scratching & whining went on for days … but he eventually got well & slowly recovered his eyesight … he survived that spit by an angry cobra … the venom that might have anything from horses to cows … he survives it by not even going to vet … he did it by him … with a little help from us … one mate bought medicines & powders to rub his sore eyes … but recover he did
  • Later in my army days, I was sent to another camp … & like my childhood dog, saw little of Ranger … he was still fine … but getting less active … age is catching up … the MPs couldn’t care less about him … he was after all just a dog … but mind you, he alerts us of intruders … he was a guard dog … & we were the guards … sounds no different
  • On my last day in military, I came to see him & bid everyone farewell & goodbye … Ranger was there … happy with food … so much so that he can afford to be choosy about which to eat … like the way he pees … the same, old Ranger
  • I entered university & forgot about military … A year or two later … I heard from my juniors at the camp that Ranger was dead … dead by unnatural means … he was buried alive … by the commanding officer of the camp & his assistant … the both of them were continuously being barked by Ranger through the years … on more than a few occasions, I have heard threats coming from them to "kill that dog one day" … it turns out to be true … the way that Ranger has killed other creatures, he himself could not spared … by animals higher up the food chain … I heard that he was first dragged into the dark fringes of the camp, whacked hard with the back of a spade (they had planned to bury him alive), threw into a hole & covered with earth … left to die on the grounds where he can be called hero after that king cobra escapade … it really makes wonder whether we should have killed that snake … or let it into the staff room … we subsequently killed baby cobras in the camp, but luckily they are small … Ranger could well be their saviour … do dogs go to heaven? … I don’t know … I only wish Ranger can die fast … forget his doctor dog style … he lived to his name … he truly is a Ranger

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