The Old Man and His Dog
Today marked the second week of the Dead Season, that desolate stretch of scarcity extending from April to September when the farms lay dormant, nurturing the sugarcane for the forthcoming harvest, and work was in short supply. It was also known as tigkiriwi, a time when one’s mouth contorted from the pangs of hunger, or tiggulutom, the season of hunger. Mansueto ventured into town once again, in search of odd jobs to buy food, his loyal companion One-Eyed Jackie faithfully by his side.
On a street corner near Crispy King, they found respite in watching the world pass by, their eyes filled with a blend of weariness and hope.
Mansueto: (Speaking to his dog) “This Dead Season is becoming exceedingly difficult for me.”
Dog: (Staring back, tilting her head left and right) “I’m listening, Boss.”
Mansueto: (Rubbing his dog’s head) “Our last meal, I believe, was a day and a half ago. I know you understand how difficult it is. I know you know that I know. Do you hear the growl of my stomach? Do you hear yours? Right?”
Dog: (Barking once) “I know, Boss.”
Mansueto: “Do you realize I’ve toiled in the sugarcane fields for nearly 45 years? I can’t even remember how long I’ve been bending my back to cut those canes. My hands are gnarled and dry. Look at these calluses, that’s from gripping the espading. There’s one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. That’s every one of my fingers!
Dog: (Observing Mansueto’s palms) “Yes, Boss, I see them.”
Mansueto: “But you know what? Some pay is better than no work at all. Is that right? Right.”
Dog: (Still looking up at Mansueto, barking once) “Yes, Boss.”
Mansueto: “I know it’s hard for me but life has been tougher for you. Do you remember that I found you abandoned in a desiccated well with a fragment of a bamboo skewer impaled in your right eye? Now you understand why I call you One-Eyed Jackie? I’m sure you remember.”
Dog: (Looking up at Mansueto, head tilted to the right) “I’m listening.”
Mansueto: (Scratching the back of his dog’s ear) “Ah, you probably don’t remember anymore. Do you? But I do. It was just about three months after I lost my beloved wife to ovarian cancer that I found you. I still think of her and miss her dearly. And I still feel bad about how you were mistreated by whoever abandoned you. But you’re here, Jackie. I’m happy that you’re here. You’re so forgiving. You don’t hold grudges, you don’t dwell on memories, you don’t seek revenge, or plot to harm those who harmed you.”
Dog: (The dog’s tail thumping weakly against the gritty ground) “I’m alright, Boss, and happy to be with you.”
Drawn by the sight of a gaunt and exhausted man conversing with his dog, a stranger approached with a warm smile.
Stranger: (Holding out a small Ziploc bag with rice and a pair of fried chicken thighs toward Mansueto) “You look like you could use a good meal,” she said.
Mansueto: (With an appreciative nod) “Thank you, Ma’am, thank you very much.”
Dog: (Standing up, looking at Mansueto and wagging her tail) “Boss, we have food.”
Before taking a bite, Mansueto broke off more than half and offered it to One-Eyed Jackie, who waited patiently to be served. Mansueto ate the rest slowly, filled with gratitude.
The stranger watched this scene with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Why did you feed the dog first?” the stranger wondered aloud.
With his gaze fixed on One-Eyed Jackie, Mansueto replied, his voice carrying a depth of emotion, “I cannot lose her.”
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Author’s email: efren.padilla@csueastbay.edu
