Saved by Pirate

CEBU, Philippines - Pirate immediately displayed his dislike for me the first time we met.

I was a new boarding house tenant of the family that owned him.

 I used to have pets too when I was younger – dogs, cats, chickens, ducks,

pigs, and pigeons, so I thought I was quite a pro in dealing with dogs.

I began calling his name and extended my hand in greeting.

My landlord’s son, Bryan, had told me that Pirate would put his

head close to the back of a hand, like a child kissing the

hand of  elders, whenever one would order

“Bless, Pirate!”

But Pirate snarled at me on the request, instead. He showed his white fangs, cautioning me to back off. Pirate was a pitbull, a breed known for their tempers.

There have been a number of reports on people being attacked by pitbulls. Children place high in the list of victims because pitbulls are reportedly more annoyed by kids. Ironically, many canine breeders believe that growing pitbulls side by side with children should be encouraged. This way, they say, pitbulls would grow tolerant to the restlessness of kids.

One day, while I was having my afternoon snacks, peanut-choco butter spread on slices of bread, Pirate came near me. I refused to establish an eye contact, because I knew dogs could get intimated easily by such and I didn’t want him to get any closer. But, suddenly, Pirate put his head on my lap.

I pretended not to have noticed him. He started salivating and whining, as if begging for my mercy. I placed a slice of bread on my lap. He bit the tip of the piece and dragged it to a corner, where he devoured it with gusto.

Then Pirate came back for more. And so our friendship began. I would lure him with peanut butter so I could pat his head, scratch his ears, tickle his belly, and cup his long snout. Pirate knew how to give a high-five. He would also roll over on command. In the next months, Pirate was already sleeping by the door to my room.

In a beach outing in 1999 in Alcoy, southeast of Cebu, Pirate proved himself to me when he “saved” me from “drowning.” Actually, Pirate and I got together so well by this time that Bryan said it was about time I should watch how Pirate got himself endeared by the family. Bryan discovered in a similar fun outing that Pirate could be directed to save lives.

Bryan narrated that one time he swam meters away and staged a drowning scenario. Pirate, unleashed but was left seated on a mono-block chair by the seashore, quickly ran close to Bryan’s location. The dog frenetically circled Bryan a number of times, tried scratching him on different places, ran back to the seashore, and barked loud to attract attention.

“That’s how I learned he could be trained,” Bryan said. “Pitbulls can be ferocious, but they are such smart animals. His instinct responded well to the situation I created.”

So I tried the same scenario. I waded to a part just deep enough where I could stay afloat, since I am not really a good swimmer. Then I pretended to be in distress. By this time, Pirate was already attuned to his nickname “Pie-pie.” I shouted “Pie!” and then prolonged the second “Piiieee!” till he noticed.

The dog dashed to my side of the waters. He tried to lead me to the shallow part. He scratched me in places and swam to that shallow area, like he was telling me I should try my best to go there. Then he swam to the seashore and barked at my companions.

My landlord’s family and the rest of the audience – my boardmates – cheered at Pirate. We rewarded the dog for the good act with either a pat or a big hug.