"I have a Labrador Retriever..."

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

I like telling people that I have a Labrador Retriever. It's a breed to be proud of. Not everyone has had the good fortune of keeping a big dog. And then again, even lesser percentage of people have kept a good-natured big dog.

Kilo has this amazingly patient temper that would make anyone who met him understand why, among all the dog breeds, Labs are the ideal guide dogs for the blind.

This story may have been repeated 3 thousand times but I'm going to say it again.

Once upon a time, Uncle Jason's friend had a pregnant Labrador. In fact, his friend had 3 Labradors in total (1 of which was pregnant), together with a German Shepherd. We were promised one of the puppies when the bitch (term is not used vulgarly here)... had given birth.

We were excited. Keeping a big dog never crossed our mind ever since Bingo, our Belgium Shepherd, was given away when we moved to a condo, and prematurely put to sleep by his new family. I shall not dwell deeper because it would make this blog post long and boring.

Along with my Uncle, we visited his friend and his very pregnant Labrador at his house in Kovan. I remembered as we walked to the doghouse to take a closer look at the mother, instead of getting all defensive as a pregnant animal would, the light yellow coloured female started wagging her tail.

In contrast, his one German Shepherd was barking at us nonstop, although with his tail wagging as well.

I was almost squealing in delight at the sweet female, who remained seated because she was already too heavy to move about easily.

We were extremely certain that what was in store for us was a cute puppy to love and to hold, to cherish in good times and bad... and.. wait. Sounds wrong to be used here.

Anyway, my parents and I were very excited. Or rather, my Dad and I. Mum never took to liking the animals much, but she's okay with living under the same roof as them... most of the time... as long as they don't pee and poo in her room (everything which Zubby is doing right now).

We complimented the dog's good temperament.

"See you." My dad said to the owner as we left his house that night.

But later on on that very same night, my Dad also received a call informing us that the dog had given birth.

"So fast?" my Dad said, and my ears pricked up as a dog's would if you tell him "Gai gai!"

Many thoughts flashed through my mind, but one of which was, I still had to wait for at least another 3 months before we could bring a new dog into our house! The puppy had to be weaned off his mother's milk... we had to choose one from among the litter of puppies... Should I pick the one that sticks with me the most or the most daring one who doesn't run away when we do the 'scare test' that most people swear by when it comes to choosing puppies...

But the phone conversation did not end there.

"Oh.. Ohhh, I see...." My dad continued responding. His smile dropped a little and I could tell it wasn't good news. Stillborn? I thought.

After waiting for infinity, he finally got off the phone.

To summarise the disappointment, the puppies were all gone. The Alsatian dog, in his excitement to see the puppies, accidentally killed them. Probably treated them like chew toys or something, flinging them all over the place. The puppies were discovered too late and were dead by then.

Dad mentioned something about the dog owner's wife screaming in the background during their phone conversation, threatening to put down the Alsatian.

Our hopes of having another dog were dashed. Chubby remained the sole canine of the household.

But sometimes, you know when you were already promised something and you don't get it, but you still pine away for it? Yes, this was exactly how we felt.

It took almost 1.5months of searching. Dad kept looking out for ads to see which pet shop had advertised stock for Labrador puppies.

We went to countless shops. Most of the time, Dad went alone. I tried to accompany as much as possible, whenever I could wake up early enough. Mum was conveniently left out of the picture because of her lack of enthusiasm and fear of us really getting another dog in the house.

Just when I thought my Dad had plainly developed the addiction of looking at Labrador puppies at petshops and never intending to get one, we found him.

He was, honestly speaking, the ugliest among all the Labrador puppies I had ever come across. I don't know why he struck a chord with my Dad.

He had really weird droopy eyes with the lower eyelids so saggy that I was quite sure you could put matchsticks in them and the eyelid would hold them up by functioning like pockets.

Hip displacement was a very real problem for big dogs and we wanted to make sure that the puppy walked perfectly fine.

And walk he did. So well, in fact, that he commando-ed under this metal rubbish container thing that they dumped stuff in during renovations.

He emerged within a few seconds with this huge dried palm-tree leaf in his mouth which was almost as tall as me. There was this other female Lab puppy that the shopkeeper brought out together for us to view, and you could tell from her face she was amazed at Kilo's find.

Of course, their newfound toy was quickly removed and they walked around again with their noses to the floor, oblivious to a group of 4 humans staring very intently at them.

The price was decided, payment was made. And I was the one who carried him out of the petshop that day.

Yes. Me. Carrying the eventually 35kg Labrador Retriever, Kilo. Even then, he was not light as a feather at 3-months old but he was definitely less than 10kg. I was 14 years old then, and had no problems lifting him up.

I got into the car with him still in my arms, and the journey home was exactly like this because the dog did not dare move an inch as if he was afraid he might fall out of the car if he even twitched.

Got home, brought him straight to the kitchen to show Ah Ma and Ah Gong. As per usual practice, they immediately drew out a few numbers and folded them up. Kilo refused to bite onto any, so they chose the ones that stuck on to his damp nose instead.

It was evident that Kilo is a dog of mine - because just like me, the numbers he picked were far off the mark. Similarly, the numbers I bought for Toto never ever opened. In fact, as I often advised many of you, to better your chances of winning, just ask which are the numbers that I bought for my ticket. Avoid those numbers, and you have a higher percentage of getting it right.

However, Kilo does hold the record of being the only pet in the Lim household to actually help us win anything from Singapore Pools.

He has the wonderful habit of biting onto the car side mirrors. In fact, so dedicated was he that it was not unusual to see him standing on his two hind legs just so that he could reach the car side mirrors better.

But one day, he finally realised that cars also have this thing called a Number Plate which is more easily accessible and require lesser effort to reach.

So off he went, chewing on the carplate of Dad's car.

The next day, Dad drove to work, all the way to Jurong with his number plate dangling halfway because one side had already came off. Dad took off that number plate and walked around the factory. Needless to say, I'm sure he had to repeat himself countless times explaining to everyone who saw him holding his carplate, of how he had a dog who chewed it off and how the sign dangled precariously off the car.

It was a hit, or so I heard - Many who saw the number plate (and the number), went to buy 4D.

Lo and behold, it did appear in the 4D results that evening, but the numbers were in reverse (some had guessed that since the sign was dangling on its side, it would mean they have to buy it in reverse, and they did, and were spot-on). Dad won a whooping amount of S$50, of which part of it went to canned meat to reward Kilo.

I still remembered how happy the dumb dog was when he tucked into that precious can of Pedigree meat which Dad fed to him immediately after reaching home from work and getting out of his car.

Oh yes. Kilo had a superb tail wag that could make anyone grimace in pain if it hits you by accident. I once was at the unfortunate receiving end of one of his tail wags, having been standing abit too close to him when someone was about to give him a biscuit.

"Ow!" I shouted by instinct when his tail hit me like a rotan. I often liked to compare his tail to those huge ropes that they used to tie boats to the dock.

He gave me a cursory glance when he heard my shout, and out of courtesy, shifted himself a mere 5cm further away from me.

Fyi, I was still within the radius of his mega tail wag. Eventually, I still had to move myself.

The first few nights that Kilo was with us, I remembered creeping out in the dark to see him, worried that he might cry because no one was with him.

Who was I kidding. Kilo was a natural-born loner from the start. He slept against our door grill and I remembered counting that he measured up to 4 squares of our grill.

When he reached full-sized, he reached to about 10.

Kilo was also the first and only dog that I took to dog training with. I still don't exactly believed it was a dog obedience class. It was an owner's obedience class too.

It was so real, at the end of the course, there was even an examination we had to sit through. Lessons were held in this big field that was segregated into the different levels. Beginners, intermediate, advanced, and an obstacle course session.

It was fun to see a place where so many dogs gathered together every weekend. And because it was a frequent affair, everyone's dog was friendly enough to be off the leash.

The problem was never about taking your leash off the dog. It's about getting him back. Scenes of dog owners screaming their dog's name while running after them was a very common sight there, especially for those whose dogs were enrolled in the obstacle course portion because they were all unleashed. Sometimes the dog might even decide to take a break and run off to join other classes and the owner had to run after it.

Among them, one of the dog was a very handsome Boxer named Oskie. Almost every week when Kilo and I were there for classes, we could hear Oskie's owner, all decked out in full Nike sports gear, running after her dog. "Oskie! Oskie, come back NOW!"

Sometimes, the dog was so non-responsive that I even began thinking whether Oskie was its real name.

Conducted by the ASD (Action for Singapore Dogs), the courses were held on Sunday late afternoons over a period of a few months. Unlike my skating class, it never rained on Sunday afternoons back then, despite how much I wished it would. The field was a mosquito feeding ground and you perspire so much and get so sticky that pieces of grass and dog fur would stick onto you.

Time flies and soon we came to the end of the course.






We failed the exam. It was embarrassing. And we also had to retake it (yes we passed cos the retaking was more slack).

But it was how we failed that made me vexed to think about it, even now.

It was during the test item where the dog was supposed to sit and wait patiently while the owner walked some distance away, slowly turn around, wait until the handler gives the command for the dog to run towards you.

Sounds simple? Yes it actually is.

However, Kilo, being Kilo, could not remain seated for long.

I was only taking my 5th step away from him when he decide to plop his whole self in the ground while waiting for me to walk the required distance away from him. He slid from a sitting position down to his elbows to his 'Down' position.

Immediately, we were failed on the spot.

I always felt some sort of leeway should be given to us, in view of his heavy weight.

The other Shih Tzus, Malteses, Cocker Spaniels, all had no problem sitting there for 15mins. In fact, some of them were so comfortable sitting that they refused to come when called.

I must share with all though, that in return for good temperament, Labradors are not renowned for being good guard dogs for houses. So if Security is what you are after, get a Rottweiler.

Because when strangers come to visit our house, whether for the first time or the 100th time, the only part of the dog that moves... is his eyeballs.












They do an excellent job when it comes to leg-rest duties, thus are very well suited for the lazier dog owners.







With all that being said, because life will move on without him now, I'd like to sadly share with all of you that Kilo had passed away this morning, on the 9th of June 2011, at 7.20am.

From now onwards, I'd have to get used to saying... "I once had a Labrador Retriever.. and his name was Kilo."

Wherever you are with Chubby now, big guy, please, try not to steal Chubby's food. I'm pretty sure he will still snap and try to rip your nose off your face if you even dare try.









Till we meet again my sweet puppy.

CiiN Sniffed Her Pillow At 11:01 pm