Black Dog Adobo by Some Filipino here in Hawaii
Beloved Frank de Limas,
Willy Ks,
everytime you meet me
on the narrow streets of
Waipahu or Ewa or Kalihi,
in wedding celebrations
or birthday parties,
in the mortuaries
or pharmacies,
in the supermarkets
or churches,
even in the schools
or cinema houses,
you never failed to ask me
about that
Black Dog.
There's not a need
to defend ourselves.
It's impractical, it's useless!
Yet, I, a typical pinoy
dog-eater,
considered the most shameful
remnant of this human race,
still need to set
this black dog thing
in a more relevant
perspective.
The smell of dog adobo
floating lightly
through your aquiline noses
is way, way different
from the real feeling,
from the real thing.
May it be tame
or wild dog,
May it be trained
or neglected dog,
May it be smart
or idiot dog,
May it be rice-fed
or chow-fed dog,
May it be pure-bred
or native dog,
May it be yellow
or brown dog,
it doesn't matter.
When you roast them,
their skin always turns
black anyway.