Companionship

When I was 10 years old, I had a dog. His name was Chu-chuy. Chu-chuy and I had great moments. We played together in our backyard in the afternoon, after classes. We walked together in our rice paddies during planting seasons. We hid together as we played tagu-taguan with our neighbor friends. I shared a lot of my childhood moments with Chu-chuy.  All the fun I had with Chu-chuy ended one day, during the Feast of Sta. Lucia.

It was the Feast of Sta Lucia, the miraculous patroness of our neighboring barrio. The street was unusually filled with vehicles, from tricycles to cars, as one would expect during a barrio fiesta. That day I still had to go to the school for classes were not suspended. I prepared for school; ate my breakfast, took a bath and wore the clothes prepared by my Mother. After saying good-bye to my parents, I went out of the house and look for Chu-chuy and said good-bye to him too, for he was after all a good friend of mine.

Classes were as usual, though there were few of my classmates who were absent. Probably they attended the revelries in the neighboring barrio.

After the classes in the morning, I went home. The roads going home were still filled with vehicles. We were even advised by the traffic aide of the school to take the necessary care in crossing the streets.

As I arrived at home, I looked for Chu-chuy but I could not find him. I satisfied my self, thinking that perhaps he was with my father in the farm. I went inside our home, and took my meals. I had caldereta for lunch. I thought it was from my father’s friend from the neighboring barrio. It was delicious. I almost finished the whole dish on our table.

While taking a little rest and watching television, my Father arrived but Chu-chuy was not with him. I immediately asked him where was Chu-chuy. He told me of the unfortunate accident that Chu-chuy met the morning I left for school. I immediately asked where was his remains. He pointed his protruded lips to our kitchen, to the table, to the calderata. Chu-chuy was calderatized. I didn’t know how to react. Was I supposed to throw-out? Was I supposed to cry? Indeed, I just cried. My father tried to pacify me but I could not stop myself from crying for the lost of my friend. Out of impulse, I told him “To whom will I play with?” “To whom will I walk with?” “Chu-chuy is gone.” “Wala na si Chu-chuy.”  My father answered back “Ano bang gusto mong laruin?” “Saan mo ba gustong pumunta?” “Nandito naman ako hah.”

Thirteen years had past since that ill-fated morning but sometimes I still feel the sense of lose I felt for Chu-chuy, though in different degree, for something, for someone else. Every time this daunting feeling of lost occurs, I simply think that somewhere, someone the Father in heaven says to me “Nandito naman ako hah.”