A Eulogy for Bread

[trigger warning: self-harm & sexual violence]

If anyone ever wondered why I named my dog Bread, well, he looked just like one when he sat — a loaf of bread. I couldn't think of any other name that would best fit that first impression.

But if a name could write a thousand impressions, then ‘Bread’ would never be enough to show how much of a person this Golden Retriever was to me.

When I first saw Bread at the center, I couldn’t even go near him. I hid behind my father, never leaving his side. We’re both young then. I was only eleven, and he was like eleven months?

I had a severe phobia of dogs because when I was a kid, I got bitten by huge dogs in our neighborhood twice.

I told my mom over and over that a dog wasn’t a good idea for emotional support. Giving me the thing I feared most wouldn’t help, if you know what happened to me at school with my teacher.

But my mom also kept insisting that we were a perfect match. Bread had been rescued from a fire that killed the only family he had. I had been pulled away by the housekeeper from my P. E. teacher. Bread had to be castrated after the fire severely burned his private parts. The vet said he could barely stand when he arrived at the animal shelter. I could barely walk home after my P.E. teacher castrated my childhood. The weight of his fingers burned every bit of my body, from flesh to bones.

We’re both survivors.

I hated Bread when he first arrived. He barked all the time. Even past midnight, he was making these strange, annoying sounds. The neighbors complained to the barangay about him.

Dad said we should bring him inside. Maybe he doesn't like being alone in his doghouse outside in the backyard. My mom agreed to put him in our spare room, but only if I took care of him. I didn't want to. God forbid, I could barely handle my own intrusive thoughts, let alone babysit an ugly puppy. But I also couldn't handle my Mom. She’s the commander-in-chief in the house. Obey, or wash the dishes?

Bread didn't like me either. Whenever I peeked into his room, he’d lunge as if he wanted to bite my ass. I was too scared to go near him. Every bark sent my heart into overdrive. But I was stuck with him. I had to pick up his shit with a rake. I had to maneuver his leash to keep his fangs away from my legs.

Dad told me to rub his head. Dogs always craved a little tender loving care. But when I tried it on Bread, he latched onto my arms and nearly sank his fangs into me. I panicked and tried to convince Mom that I needed to see a doctor immediately because, according to Google, I might have rabies and die within two years. Turned out he missed my hand, and I was just overthinking.

Mom said it will take time. Bread was still in shock, struggling to cope with all the drastic changes in his life. After all, he was just a puppy, just like me.

And so I kept trying every day before and after school. I reach for his head, despite his reluctance. I didn't stop until one day, I was finally able to touch him without him going into a frenzy. I still jolted when he barked, and shooed him away whenever he tried to press his nostrils against my legs.

But Mom said, “Keep going. He’s not gonna bite you. Bread is, in fact, begging for more”. That's when I learned that when a golden retriever barks, it’s not because they want to attack you. They are, in fact, one of the friendliest dog breeds ever created. They just want to play. They are literally fur babies begging to be hugged. They crave your attention. They long for your presence because, to them, you are their entire world.

Bread lost his home and longed for a new one until we found him. Until I found Bread.

And then… the bad days came.

I was sent to detention for hitting a student who had been secretly bullying me in the bathroom. Everyone pointed to me as the culprit because all they saw was me fighting back. No one saw him plunge my face into the toilet. No one believed me then. Even if they had, they would have still scolded me for being “violent”.

All the things that happened to me in my previous school flashed back. The triggers drained every ounce of my desire to live. I crumpled into the corner of my room, consumed by the thought of leaving my restless, empty flesh behind to follow the light. In those thoughts, I saw a staircase. I tried to climb it, but a strange weight held me down, preventing me from lifting my feet.

Bread plopped himself on my lap, staring at me. His tongue flopped out like his floppy ears. He didn’t say anything; of course, he’s a dog. But he didn’t make any sound. He was just there on my lap, not leaving the entire night.

And you know what he did? He climbed onto my head and rubbed it.

That’s when Bread found me.

I guess that's what broken people do to each other. They mend each other's fractured souls.

If only I could be in two places at once. If only heaven had a visa. I’d book a round-trip ticket every day, just to rub your head again.

I miss you, Bread.

Too bad, your favorite hooman could only share a decade of his life with you. I wish the world would stop today, or that my remaining years would pass more quickly until I end with you. But for now, I have to finish this eulogy, wipe my tears, and wait for my time to come.

Fly away, my best pal.

- Koji