Bitch Finds a Bastard

You already know that I’m the self-named, self-confessed, self-admitted B.I.T.C.H. I might just be the only person who has no problem being called a bitch. I’m the personification of the old Alma Moreno joke, who when called out, “Hey, BITCH!”, would reply with much annoyance, “Don’t you dare call me ‘Hey’!” So, as the Bitch, it is appropriate that I find my bastard. And I found my bastard.

He’s young. He’s short. He’s dark. He’s hairy. He loves to nibble. He’s jumpy and very excitable. He loves me unconditionally. He hates taking baths. He’s one hot dawg. Oh... what? I really was talking about a dog... as in he walks on all fours.

A colleague at work had puppies that she needed to give away... to anyone who was willing to give them a good home. Four puppies each needed a home. Easy a decision as it should’ve been, I had to think about it seriously.

I’ve always been a pet lover. I’ve had fish, turtles, fortune lobsters, cats, dogs and even a monkey. And my last pets, and I could say my favorite species, were rabbits. But it’s been 2 years since my last rabbit died. Almost perfectly timed with finding out I was HIV positive. I guess it gave me time to take care of myself first.

But it was time. I took a chance. Let’s give him a codename. Let’s call him mah little Bastard. Because he is... he is Bitch’s little Bastard. Just in case he’s in any way covered by R.A. 8504, let’s keep his real identity for him to disclose for himself.

And August 21st, the little Bastard came into my life. He was born June 10th, making him around two and a half months when I got him. He’s a mini-pinscher, with a little mix of shitzu. So in the question whether he’s a pure breed or not, he isn’t. But that don’t mean he ain’t the cutest.


He doesn’t exactly look like a mini-pinscher or a shitzu. People have said he looks like a Yorkshire terrier. He actually reminds me of Tintin’s dog, Snowy, just tinier and in a different color. He’s black, with brown bits on his legs, his snout and his eyebrows. He’s not exactly classy looking. I would actually use the word “scrappy” to describe him. He really looks scrappy. But just right. I’m not classy myself. I’m scrappy, too.

So there. Officially, this is my first dog. My own dog. A dog who I’ll be bringing up, my own style.

So for the first time ever in my pet history, this dog stays inside the house and sleeps in my room. He ain’t gonna be eating bones and just leftovers either. But most importantly, health-wise, karir kung karir.

Well, it was partly a condition laid upon me by my colleague who gave me the little Bastard. But more importantly, I cannot overlook the fact that I am now immuno-compromised. So the little Bastard’s health can and will directly affect my own.

So, two weeks ago, I brought the little Bastard to the veterinarian, luckily just a couple of blocks from where I live. It wasn’t his first trip to the vet, as he’d began his shots even before he was given to me, but it was mine. He had a little booklet that was a record of the vaccines he’s gotten... funnily similar to the booklet I have for my ARVs.

The poor little thing got the second dose of his vaccines, which the doctor said was a 5-in-1 thing, all with a little whimper. It was a combination of vaccines for DHLP - short for Distemper, Hepatitis, Leptospirosis, and Parvovirus - plus Corona Virus, if I‘m not mistaken.

Interesting. I never knew dogs could get hepatitis. I’m sure it’s different from the hepatitis I have, but I could’ve truly said that I can sort of relate.

By next week, he’ll get his next shots, which the vet says will be a 6- or 7-in-1. I’m not exactly sure what six or seven those are. Also soon, he’ll get a follow-up for his deworming, and start on his rabies shots. I’ll probably have to get a rabies vaccine as well, just to make sure. I’ll ask RITM about it.

I really wasn’t sure how my mom would take the little Bastard. But thankfully, she’s fallen in love with him. She’s been able to whip out her grandmothering skills, probably seeing him as the first ever grandchild she’s been longing for. She loves feeding him, keeps him company during the day while I’m at work, telling me all about his antics while they’re home alone, and even going online to research on dog care. And mind you, my mom isn’t exactly all that techie, so that’s a real effort for her.

It’s really not hard to fall in love with the little Bastard. He lives by little bundles of energy, and is a sleepy, lazy pup in between... quite like myself. He’s also extremely perky and pesky, in an adorable way. And he’s extremely smart. It took just over a week to potty-train him, although he does still have the occasional accidents every once in a while. He also knows this early how to “sit” and “come”, and he has this funny way of putting his toys away by his little bed, which my mom says takes after my obsessive-compulsive side. Hehe.

I guess the worst part of it is that the little Bastard is really taking up my time. I can’t just stay out all the time knowing that he’s home waiting for me. And my mom is taking advantage of that fact as well, using him as a way of convincing me to come home early every time I have plans. Argh. But he’s not exactly cramping my style completely. I am still able to stay out late or go out on weekends, either for yoga or the occasional dates.

He’s not keeping me up late either. Mostly, he’s sleeping when I am. Or if he is awake, I don’t know what else he’s doing... he’s really quiet and doesn’t disturb my sleep. Though he is becoming my third alarm clock, as he now knows the morning routine. My cellphone rings, my wristwatch rings shortly after, and soon he starts licking whatever body part I have hanging off the bed, trying to wake me up to let him out of the room. Even on holidays. Hahaha.


So there, this is my little Bastard. Just over four months old, and barely a month under my care, the little Bastard right now has earned his special place in my heart. One other reason to try to stay healthy and live longer. Yes, this Bitch has found his Bastard.