Farm Tales

We have three (3) dogs, all local breeds (askals) watching over our house in Bohol. My father gave them some of the strangest names ever: Borrocoy, Tomboy and Cable (yes, it is spelled that way). How he came up with these names I am still unable to fathom, as I can't remember any of his lengthy explanations.

Cable was my late lola's (grandma) dog. He'd literally sprawl himself on the doorway to my grandma's room, sort of like a sentinel, sniffing and sizing up those wishing to see my lola. When she died, Cable retreated to his shell, became reticent and got bullied by the younger dogs. His self-esteem seems to have changed for the better recently as he has become very assertive. He keeps a distance from the younger ones and is still generally aloof. He stays near where we keep the copra kiln, which is perfect because my parents needed that to be guarded.

The two rambunctious ones can be too much to handle. Borrocoy, shaggy and long-haired is extremely sip-sip ("boot licker"), eager to please, a shameless flatterer and will immediately stand on his hind legs or roll on the grassy ground, trying to be cute and all. He can be very fierce, however. Once, he didn't like the fashion sense of a sacristan of the nearby chapel who was wearing an all-white cassock, or soutane. And so he chased the poor guy out of his wits who made a dash for our front porch.

My mother thinks Tomboy (he's actually a male, so the nickname remains a mystery to me) is part-fox. Like a retriever (I think), he likes to dig into the ground and lie down on it, making holes everywhere and driving my mom mad. He is the fiercest and the most aggressive during feeding time.

The dogs guard the house with their lives, and will generally stay within the perimeter fence. Our house remains a magnet for thieves, considering that it is surrounded by fruit-bearing trees (mostly Caimitos, Cavendish bananas and Cacao) and Maize, and we used to raise free-range chickens, a feature in most houses in far-flung areas (except for the piano and the organ, perhaps). Yes, we have already traded a cozy, middle-class existence in Bukidnon for a more down-to-earth, rural and very farm-based one in Bohol. And so the dogs have provided a sense of security to my parents who have the place all to themselves.

But Cable had an unfortunate encounter with a thief who tried to steal a bunch of Cavendish bananas inside the perimeter fence. The dog got wounded slightly when the thief tried to strike him with a long knife he was using to get the bananas.

Oh by the way, the chickens have already disappeared, a source of frustration for my parents. I miss the chickens, though. Mother hen would usually parade, along with her brood of chicks, in front of the porch waiting for their daily ration of corn and rice feeds at around 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. everyday. They announce their arrival with a choral serenade.

When my lolo (grandpa) was alive, his dog (I forgot the name) would keep him company wherever he went (the dog would sleep outside, however), even in the rice fields. When my lolo died, the dog would be searching for him in the fields, scaring the hell out of some people.