Julia, Caesar, Tar Baby and Cleo, the Cat

TAR BABY Born - Halloween 1990.

Gone to Doggie Heaven - Saturday evening, 19 November 2005 @ 11ish pm.

Age : 15 human years x 7 (human-canine mutiplier) = 105 yrs old

Mother : Julia (see photo below).

Father : Unknown (probably a Rott Weiler from his markings).

Breed : Contentment.

Tar Baby lived, a member of our family, til the ripe old age of 15 earth years! And I never really knew what his name meant until today (Word of the Day : Tar Baby) . Always suspected it had derogatory connotations, but it was a name given to him by Ping's friend, Manisha, a Mensa student, and we grew to love the name...and him.

Animals have always been a way of life for us - dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, mice, fish, birds, terrapins, salamanders....you name it, we probably kept it! It is believed that kids who grow up with animals become much nicer folk....and I think there's probably some truth in that saying, given the fact we didn't turn out to be mass murderers. Moreoever, I've seen the effects animals have on born-again-animal-lovers or animal converts. That twinkle in their eye when they talk about their "kids"...and then they start to bake organic canine cookies....

TAR (as he has come to be known) was probably a product of wild groovy unrestrained love; the bastard son of JULIA (see photo of gorgeous Golden Retriever on the right). She was the alpha female of a pack of 2 then : just her and her little sister from a different litter, CAESAR (see photo below, my dog). Can't remember how they acquired their names, but I think my dad named them. We found out BRUTUS, a toydog, lived down the lane from us. To close up the Roman loop, we named our cat, CLEO (see below).

Anywayz, the tireless aim of JULIA and CAESAR on a daily basis would be : One, two, three! The gates are open! Run, run, run! Don't look back! Now, let's go check out that hunk down the street, and roll in mud and oil....fun!!!

This happened many many times per day, day and night, night and day, when the car goes out, comes in....multiply that by 2 parents and 5 sisters living in the house.

It's not that home was crammed or they lacked love as there was ample garden space at my parent's place and we gave them lots of TLC (tender lovin' care)! We figured they were just young... and rebellious!

The woofies would stalk the neighbourhood, mark their territory (even though they're bitches), and often only return the following day, looking all content... and extremely filthy! Bath time!

Despite trying to make it OUR house rule to leash the dogs up when this happens, not everyone in the house is that diligent. Ping and I would end up going for long walks, just searching for them. And we almost always knew exactly where to find the 2 fat galoots...at the accident car tow storage one avenue away!

One fine day, Ping brings JULIA out for marathon training! That poor girl fainted halfway (the dog I mean). After rushing her to the vet, we were called to the examination room, "5 girls in your family, and you didn't know your dog is.......pregnant?" Look of disbelief on our faces!

We justified, "But...we thought she was just.....fat?" Yea, our dogs were known as "the fatties", stemming from their weakness for FOOD! None of us (5 sisters) would have suspected that such a thing could happen, even though we should have predicted that it was a probable outcome of bitch neighbourhood galavanting. Ok, we were very young, foolish, and totally unprepared! But there were lots of hot lookin' sons of bitches living along the street from us.

Being the tough cookie that she is, Julia thankfully recovered in no time, but what should we do about the pregnancy? Let's wait and see.

We prepared a delivery room for the impending birth of her puppies. About a week later, I noticed that she was digging a big hole underneath a container structure. Before you know it, out came sacks of dark green mucus coated...puppies? OMG! Call someone, the vet, anyone! But alas, I was all alone! So, I bravely assumed the role of a firsttime canine midwife. One by one, they popped! A dark brown one. Oh, a blackie? Hmmm.....and they kept coming. She started licking the sacs til the puppies were breathing (FYI - mothers eventually end up swallowing the discharge coz it's nutritious? Wonder if that's true).

Unfortunately, all puppies but one passed on at dogbirth (probably due to premature birth), and the lone survivor came to be known as TAR, the longest surviving dog in the history of our Pet family! It seemed like yesterday that I delivered him.

Now, because his old-age ailments had caused him to suffer pretty badly, I had to do the ghastly deed of putting him to sleep (as I had done before for his mother and his aunt years before when they had irreparable medical complications). The vet made me sign a form, agreeing to his euthanasia, and we had the option of picking a common cremation (with other dogs that kicked the bucket on the same day) for about $200 - 300, or a private cremation with an urn, that cost $600 - 800!!! Ok, let's deal with this later.

We fed TAR his last Chocolate Cornetto, while Maximuzz offered him some Calbee potato chips, all of which he chomped down within seconds. See, the greedy genes runs deep in their veins! Ping opened a packet of full-creme milk, which he licked off the makeshift bowl of my hand. The vet arrives, asked if we were ready, searches for the vein on his leg, and injects the lethal green liquid into his body. About half a minute later, after taking his last breath, he was physically motionless, but spiritually free from the 15-year old beat-up body that he had inhabited. It was a real tear-jerking moment, but we convinced ourselves it was all for the best!

Back home, I'd dug out an album I've compiled of Julia, Caesar, Tar and Cleo over the years. Let's rewind 2 years before prior to Tar's arrival on this earth.

In 1999, I visited my 2nd sister, Lily who was then living in Tokyo. Beyond my wildest dreams, she'd whipped out a rare Selmer Mark VI Alto saxophone and presented it to me! it happened that her good Japanese friend was a dealer of second hand vintage musical instruments - recalled seeing a couple of Jimmy Hendrix and Beatles guitars! He was also a breeder of golden retrievers!!!

So, she introduced me to CAESAR (my sweetie on the right), the first dog I ever owned! She was the sweetest creature to have walked this earth! And craved love so much love and attention (being the runt of the litter) that she'd do anything just to please you, including eventually performing the "bang, you're dead - roll over and play dead" trick seamlessly! First thing she did was to climb onto my lap and refused to budge.

Her older sister, JULIA was the only child in the litter, so she suffered from a single-child syndrome - as you know, rebellious, stubborn, had a mind of her own! They both had papers, bearing Japanese names with titles like "Princess of Sakura" or something regal sounding - will go look it up! She adopted Ping as her trusted owner.

When they first arrived in Singapore, they understand mostly Japanese commands, til they mastered English 101 while attending Doggie Obedience School with their owners. Then, we were taught 2 methods of obedience....the carrot and the whip. Learn a trick well, and reward them right away. Be disobedient, and you get a gentle tug of the leash. Didn't sound very kind, but it sure beats an electric collar!

CAESAR, who was all eager to please, passed with flying colours. JULIA had red marks in her report card, not that she was not intelligent, but because she probably didn't see the need to take orders. I mean, she used to bring CAESAR out for walks. We'd put CAESAR on a leash, and JULIA would hold onto the other end of the leash and pull her sister along. If that's not intelligence, I don't know what is! So, sometimes I wonder....the dog that is knowingly and intentionally disobedient (kinda like cats) is probably smarter than the one that follows your every command.

CAESAR went on to have a litter of her own, after one unsuccessful matchmaking session with an overweight Aussie stud, and eventually copulated with a handsome "Golden" male retriever. We spayed the both of them after their births, and because of that, they lost their breed status. But better that, than to have more unwanted babies, even though I hear that dog breeding is a very lucrative business. Pups could fetch up to $800 - $1000 each!

Life was peaceful for the doggies, til CLEO (ze meow on the right sleeping in stretch pose) came along. Ping bumped into CLEO right outside her school....a lone kitten with a fungus-infested nose and a terrible fur condition, wandering around, mewing for attention. Where was the mommy? Ping eventually brought "her" home and we cleaned "her" up and decided that she looked like a "CLEO"....til "she" developed....balls. Well, that name sounded androgenous enough. Today, we still refer to him as "her".

I still remember CLEO's first walk down the path of horrors. She walked through the front doors in the direction of 3 salivating dogs, and my dad ran after him, scooped him up and explained that that was a dangerous stunt to pull. He obviously mastered a defence mechanism called the "stare and show them your claws" kung-fu because he soon became the King of the House. He would stare patiently through a glass door at 3 dogs hurling their noses and barking non-stop at him. Once the doors were open, ohhhhh the 3 scaredy cats would run for dear life while CLEO retaliated with a swing of de ol claw motion!

CLEO grew up with a human as a mother-figure. He'd sleep with the back of his head leaning against a pillow, and in positions that looked like us when we were sleeping. Only when he started to hang around with others like him, neighbourhood strays, did he acquire feline traits...and probably became gay. Ok, will not go into whole feline psychology...lest I be hantam-ed by Siva and Airani, who are animal behaviour specialists!

Today, CLEO is the only true living household pet in my parent's home, holding the fort, sleeping in front of the gates like his canine siblings before him, and running up to greet you with a lick when you go home. I say, home is where the animal is! Too bad my home is too small for creatures larger than life!