Psyche-

Walking down the lane of dreams u n f o l d i n g, I recalled my awkward encounters with animals my childhood days. The class was told to think of a theme using pronouns if I remember it right. I came up with a topic about how our week revolved around our only family dog then. My draft included running after Kukoi for its weekend splash, daily manual deticking and defleaing and three times a day meal. It ran thru couch rumbling and sneaking thru bedroom doors when given a chance or door beating on firecracker season and thunder blight. Until Kukoi was bred by roaming-free alike mates and boom! More pups filled the house. The family would know Kukoi on its way to whelping by its bump and we would just be surprised in the morning she already whelped. One pup after pup died due to this bloody diarrhea or frequent vomiting. I had to go to school late trying to revive a pup I did not know was on the brink of life-death. I slowly forced fed the pup with a sugar-milk solution and I got m

I was about to get off being quadriplegic and ready to roam free when I was diagnosed with bronchopneumonia primary complex. My mom in her profession of teaching became my instant quack physician, therapist, nanny, caregiver and nurse for years of this struggle of weak respiratory system. I always find her having me being babied so lavishly, a realization made after leaving the outskirts of home post-high-school. On a first hear of sniffling or coughing, she would warm coconut oil on my back and do some reflexology she believed would ease me off my wheezing. Mother would be boiling leaves from the yard and be setting a certain glassful of the concoction leaving me bloated. If she hears about a new approach to health such as pills or machine she would let me try. And if her line of first aid would not work, only then she would consult a medical expert. A classmate laughed it off upon seeing me, I was I think 13 that time, being carried at the back when my mother had to bring me to the