I picked up my second rescue Dog, a newly born Puppy, from a ditch just outside my house (see “I grew roses to cope with grief. But I remained empty” in the March-April 2025 issue of Animal Scene). I named him Frodo after the character in the Netflix series, “Lord of the Rings”.
Frodo in the series was a survivor who made it against all odds. My new rescue Pup Frodo certainly survived too after being thrown away just days after his birth with his eyes still closed.
I watched Frodo grow up from a lovable ball of bungling white fur to a teenager with long legs.
When he became an adult, he was the tallest of myvDogs. While he was growing up, I saw my dilemma: Frodo was motherless. He had no mother to teachvhim about life in the world he was born into.
In my home, I maintained an all-male pack. There was no female to take over the role. This is a sad consequence of Pups separated early from their mothers.
We’ve seen videos online of Bear Cubs following their mother around in the wild as she teaches them how to hunt, forage for food, and climb trees before they leave on their own. We’ve seen baby Chicks, Ducklings, and all young animals following their mothers around, emulating her and copying her skills.
These are not just touching pictures of mothers and their young. These are mothers teaching their dependents Basic Survival 101 before the youngsters leave her, just as Mother Nature intended.
NO BASIC SURVIVAL SKILLS
Frodo grew up shy and fearful. He was skittish. Any new stimulus scared him, because he didn’t know what he was looking at.
I was able to leash-walk him after a long training process, but only if we were alone on the street. The minute a car or passerby came into view, it was a battle of wills: Frodo fought the leash by pulling away and twisting in all directions. I had to fight back to keep him in control.
One day, I made the mistake of forcing him to walk around the block to follow our other Dogs who were walking ahead. I told myself it was “’only a block.” I felt that our effort to socialize him was taking too long. Maybe being with the other Dogs of the pack would inspire him to emulate them.
But Frodo threw up at every corner we rounded. He had panic spells. He never ventured past our street corner before. I tried to walk him around the block, coaxing and encouraging him as he panicked at every new sight he saw in between his nervous vomiting episodes.
When we finally entered our street, as soon as Frodo saw and smelled familiar surroundings, he recovered, picked up pace, and hurried to get home.
HOPING AGAINST HOPE
I walked Frodo out less often after that. As a result, he became close to my twenty-year-old son, Daniel, who had an online job. He was always home and had more time to walk Frodo out.
The Dog became dependent on him. But how deep that dependence was I didn’t realize until Daniel left home a year later to live on his own.
I was out of town most days of the week too and thought everything was alright. When I was home, while I sat at my laptop working nights, I saw Frodo lounge against the glass sliding doors. When I retired at midnight, the Dog was still there.
Other nights, I saw Frodo on the lawn, waiting. He’d done that before. That was how he waited for Dan to come home. Dan always entered through the side gate where the Dog greeted him joyfully, then together, they retired to his bedroom.
But after Dan left, Frodo continued to wait all night, refusing to go to the (empty) bedroom alone.
Nobody could tell him Dan wasn’t coming back anymore. Besides, I was too busy. Maybe the Dog would get used to the new run of things (I hoped).
The month passed. One weekend when I was home, I took Frodo out for a walk. It had been a long time since I did this. I noticed he was unusually thin, almost skin and bones. I pointed that out to the maid who fed the Dogs.
She said he barely ate all month.
We tried to figure out when it started. The maid suggested that maybe it was when Daniel left. The Dog had little appetite since. I decided to take him to the vet on Monday to get Frodo checked out.
That night, I saw Frodo out on the lawn again, waiting. He spent the night outdoors under the open sky. He never went to the bedroom vacated by Dan.
THE WAIT TILL ETERNITY
On Monday morning as I prepared to pack Frodo off to the vet, the maid approached me. “Wala na si Frodo (Frodo is no more),” she said.
“He what?” I demanded in disbelief.
Frodo died that night. My maid found his body by the side gate, the gate Dan used whenever he came home when he was still living with us.
The Dog had been waiting for Dan.
“WHAT ABOUT US?”
It’s a sad fact of life that in the social hierarchy of humans, the family Dog or Cat (or any other companion animal) is on the lowest rung. We usually cannot put the needs of the Dog or Cat ahead of those of a human, although thankfully in today’s lifestyle, that’s often done.
When a family goes under extreme stress (sickness, separation, death, loss of home, loss of income, or even a new job), in the whirlwind of such changes, the animal companion becomes the last priority.
When the family Dog or Cat tries to signal that he too is being affected by the ongoing crisis and needs help to understand what is going on, family members often overlook the message. There are more pressing issues in their minds. Or they put it off until the emergency is over.
But sometimes, can the animal companion wait?
