A few days ago, I heard the rumor that someone in our neighborhood had lost a dog. The owner of the missing dog had to go on a business trip so he asked a friend to take care of his dog while he was gone. Unfortunately, however, the door was left open briefly and the dog ran out of the house. The dog is still missing, probably wandering around when the weather is still chilly after the sun goes down.
Although I have never seen the dog, I found myself looking for him whenever I went out. Today, I saw a flyer stuck to the entrance of our building. As I stood there staring at the photo of the missing dog that looked so innocent, I felt my heart suddenly sink because the face of my dog Putkong overlapped with the missing dog in the photo.
When people say, “My children are more precious than my life,” I honestly didn’t fully understand what they meant. It just sounded like a cliché and I could only assume that it would be true for all parents. Ever since I adopted Putkong, however, I've been able to “feel” what it means. I could certainly die for my dog, but I still can’t because I can’t afford to leave him all alone. I wish I could give half of my life to Putkong so that he can live longer with me.
From Guardian to Mom
For dogs, their owner is their world and vice versa. People make sacrifices and do a lot of things for their dogs, like walking them and playing with them. Still, dogs give so much more to people in return. My dog Putkong will probably be fine without me, but I'm not sure if I can say the same thing for myself. No other creature or non-living thing for that matter has ever brought me such great happiness. To me, Putkong is like a child who is more precious than my life.
Putkong is my first pet dog. Some five years ago, there was a puppy named “Lina” that was abandoned at an airport, its kneecap dislocated. Lina was presumed to be one year old. Lina was admitted to a city-run animal shelter, waiting to be put to sleep, before it was rescued by an animal activists' group. Since then, Lina was moved from shelter to shelter before finally coming to me. I changed his name to Putkong when we started living together.
Initially, the word that came to mind most often was “tired.” I was anxious for both of us to become comfortable with each other sooner so I spent a lot of time walking and training him. As a result, the sense of fatigue gradually overshadowed the joy of having my first pet dog. Putkong repeated the same mistakes even after I taught him the skill over and over.
Frustrated, I would think to myself, “How come he doesn’t get it? How many more times do I have to teach him? My feelings of fatigue were easily triggered by people’s use of words like mom. When I was walking Putkong, my neighbors often said, “You’re taking a walk with mommy, right?” or “Your eyes are fixed on your mommy!”
Whenever I heard them say so, I thought, “I’m not his mommy!” I chose to use the word “guardian” instead of mommy when I talked about my dog. For example, I said, “Your guardian will feed you,” or “Your guardian will be out for a while, okay?” I defined myself as “his guardian” based on the role I play for the dog, not on the relationship. I drew a clear line between the dog and me, insisting that "he's just a dog and I'm not his mommy. I'm just his guardian." I felt awkward and uncomfortable whenever people called me his mom and when I was forced to say the word mom.
Why does the word “mom” weigh so heavily on me? To me, “mother” is a synonym of love, sacrifice, tears, frustration, sorriness, regret, anger, and sense of guilt. For this reason, I didn't want it in my life. I've never wanted to become a mother ever since I was a little kid. My mom always looked tired. Watching her living a hard life as a mom, I have developed the idea that I would be unhappy if I became a mom.
Unsurprisingly, I decided not to get married or have kids, and this has influenced how I meet people and build relationships. I just think I want to find someone to love, but it's only in my mind and I always draw the line, which prevents men from getting closer to me. When they sensed a line between us, how did they feel? They probably felt sad and lonely. Actually, I myself felt lonely, too, even if I'm the one who drew the line.
After thinking long and hard, I embraced a dog as family. I guess I eventually turned to an animal instead of people to feel connected. But old habits die hard. I still found myself drawing the line with Putkong. I was saying to myself, "I refuse to be his mom," and "I’m not going to let this dog make my life unhappy." Such obsessive thinking made me even more unhappy. However, the dog won’t let me be. No matter how hard I insist that I'm not his mom, he keeps coming to me for love and care. Even after I scold him for his misbehavior, he sits next to me and rubs his butt against me. Annoyed for some reason, he would bare his teeth and growl but soon lie on his back, showing his belly as a plea for belly rubs. This odd behavior that humans cannot possibly understand makes me laugh and surrender to the innocent charm of this lovely animal. After around 3 years of living with Putkong, I found myself saying, “Come to mommy, Putkong.”
Things That Putkong Has Taught Me
One day, a friend who is an animal lover said, “I took a moment and asked myself why I love animals and why I adore them so much. I realized I don't ask for anything in return from them. They never make me sad. But we always have some expectations when it comes to other human beings and we expect something in return from people when we give them something or do something for them. When they fail to meet our expectations, we complain, ‘Why can’t see you how I feel?" "I did it for you, but how come you don’t give me anything in return?" But we don’t have such expectations when it comes to animals and we know they don’t mean it when they do something wrong or misbehave.”
I couldn’t agree more with what she said, which I wouldn't have been able to understand fully had I heard it before Putkong and I became a true family. In fact, I started calling myself “mommy” for Putkong when I no longer expected anything back from him. Now, Putkong is just cute and lovely, whatever he does. No matter what he does, it doesn’t bother me at all. No matter how much I give him, I still want to give him more. My mom looked so tired and unhappy when I was a kid, but this is how she must have felt for me as she took care of me.
It took me longer than others to shift from "I am the one who keeps you safe. Doesn’t this mean I love you?" to "I love you and I'm so happy to be your mom." After spending years trying not to be like my mom, I now find such great comfort in the deep sense of compassion and companionship that has taken root inside me. Had I found Putkong earlier or someone who made me realize I was capable of giving so much love, I probably would've gotten married and had kids.
It's been already five years since Putkong and I became a family. Now Putkong is presumed to be six years old. Just looking at him sleeping instantly fills my heart with a sense of affection. Time flies indeed. I can’t believe it’s already been five years. And I wonder how much more time we have left to spend together. Some negative thoughts enter my mind, but I try to shake them off as I stroke Putkong's back. Looking back, I can’t believe how I could be mad at such a little lovely puppy. I only wish I could turn back the clock and erase the times I didn't treat him with love under the pretext of training him. The first year we were together was probably hell for Putkong. He thought he finally met someone who could be family, but probably felt lonely and sad during the first year.
Now, I'm undoubtedly Putkong’s mom, not a friend or a guardian. I'm officially his mom. Five years ago, I never knew I would take care of him no matter what, we would be together for the rest of our lives, and our life together would be full of laughter and happy moments. But now I'm sure that the only decision I will never regret is bringing Putkong into my life and becoming a family.
