On whether dogs feel regrets or remorse...

There's always been questions on whether animals like dogs or chimps feel regrets or remorse. I think they do, or at least dogs do.

When I was young, I had a dog named Carol. Since I was very small, I had always wanted a dog. So, when we finally got Carol, me and my siblings were overjoyed. I gave him the name too. Carol is a mixed breed, all white, with rather fluffy fur, white flappy ears, and a bushy tail like water from a fountain.

I don't think I know how to take very good care of it though. I remember the first couple of nights when he came to our home, he was feeling very sad, probably missing his mother. In response, my parents shut him in the bathroom, with no lights on. I felt sad too when I heard him whimpering in the dark room inside. I know now that, puppies are really like human babies, and they should feel loved instead of pushed away. But my parents never had any pets in their lives, and that's how they would have shut out any stray animals.

I would be the first to admit that I didn't know or never did show Carol discipline. So, Carol had always been on the wild side. He would growl and show his teeth if anyone went near his food bowl when he's eating. (Don't even think about touching his bowl, if you want to keep your hands and fingers intact.) I hugged him, kissed him, and did most everything with him on my side.

Maybe because I never showed him discipline or that I would get upset when he did anything wrong, he never respected (or was scared of) me as much as he would to my parents.

One time, I went into the living room, saw Carol on the sofa, and my first impression was to go there and give him a hug. Never did I realize that my brother had made him upset earlier on, and he was still growling. When I gave him the hug, he turned around and bit me instead. He bit me on my nose pretty hard. It came so fast and sudden that I didn't even have time to recoil or pull myself away. When those few flash seconds went by, Carol immediately whimpered and went hiding under the table. My brother and sisters rushed to check up on me. I couldn't feel my nose. In fact, I couldn't feel a good portion of my face. I went to check it in the mirror and saw the couple of bite marks on my nose, but there's nothing on my face. For the few weeks after that, my nose would swell to the size of a ping pong ball. We were so worried that we tried to hide it from my parents, since it's quite certain that my parents would send Carol away, and we didn't want to lose Carol. To us, he's part of our family.

It's thankful that I never got any infection from the bites. The scar is still visible on my nose, but nothing much else was damaged. That incident was one of the many that Carol had bitten me (mostly me, since I hugged him most). He had bitten me on my hands and feet. But one thing that I do know is that, Carol was capable of feeling regrets and remorse. Much like a human child, Carol would whimper and tentatively try to come back to me - his way of saying sorry. I have no doubts of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd always had dreams of playing with Carol on beach. He's a very playful dog, and I knew he'd have a very good time. I had even planned for the inevitable, that one day he would die, and I would have him cremated, so that his ash could stay with me all the time. That's probably pretty elaborate planning for a young child like me.

But Carol had come to a sad ending. He never got to grow very old with me. He was probably 8 or 9, and my parents sent him away. While my parents regarded him as our pets, and they would help caring for Carol, like bathing and playing, my parents have some kind of detachness to animals and pets. One day, we came back from school, we spent the afternoon busy doing homework. In the evening, when we realized we didn't hear any noise from Carol, we went looking all over the house, and found him missing. And then, my dad broke the news. He told us he sent him away, on some remote street quite far away. My sisters and I bursted into tears. That's why my dad felt remorseful about doing what he did. He promised he would go find him with us.

For two weeks, we went looking all over town. We reported Carol as the missing dog to the police, even though we knew police in Hong Kong hardly gives a damn about dogs. We posted missing-dog posters everywhere. We searched for Carol non-stop for two weeks straight near the street where my dad let him loose. We never found him.

In a way, we knew it's a lost cause. The area that dad let him loose was a rather lowly neighborhood, and people were known to eat dogs and cats. (That made me sick in my stomach.) We didn't even dare venturing into the dark alleys in those areas because even cops left those places alone. It's a place near Kowloon City where a long history reigns. (One of these days, I'll dig up its history and write it in the journal.)

After a while, when all my tears were dry, I perversely thought to myself, it's perhaps better be a fast and sudden death, than a slow and painful one. The slow descend into oblivion from living on the street is not a life I would have hoped for Carol, because I know, even to this day, that Carol could not have made it out of that area, from the gang's hands.

It's been more than 20 years now, since we lost Carol. I still miss him alot. I've promised Carol in my heart, and myself too, that I would never have a dog again, if I cannot take care of it, and show him discipline, and be able to keep him/her with me and grow old with me.

My kids have asked me for a pet, a puppy or kitten. But I know, with my busy schedule, I could not have fulfilled that silent promise that I made to Carol; and the kids are too young to understand the kind of responsibility that a pet will demand of them. I do not wish myself to turn cold-hearted towards our pets, because I don't have time for them. That would be too cruel and unfair to the animals.

Perhaps one day my kids will understand my thinking, when they read this journal.