Le roi est mort, vive le roi... woof! (repost)

Mr Wong died shortly after noon on 25 August 2010.

We suspect he was at least 13 years old (91 in human years), though that's pure conjecture. Mr Wong's origins remain a mystery even if I'm convinced he was indeed the grandson of the venerable Madam Wu (maiden name Curly-Wurly or Curlington-Wurlington on account of her spitz pedigree), one of the original Magick River dogs.

He was also known as Mr Wong Beng Oi or Golden Boy. His official designation at Magick River was Head of Homeland Security. He was undoubtedly the Dog of Dogs, veritably an ascended canine.

Madam Wu was already at an advanced age when she moved to Ampang Jaya long enough to get impregnated by Mary Maguire's mutt, Deputy Dawg (originally of the Yap clan, judging by the nervous tone of his bark). When Mary relocated to Kuala Kubu Bharu in 1997, Madam Wu returned to her former life as a jungle dog, while her daughter Lulu Yap née Lulu Wu stayed on with Mary in Kuala Kubu Bharu and later Sungai Choh. Lulu was seduced by Milligan (a rakish stray adopted by Mary) and had her first litter when she was still in her teens. Lulu's pups were all given away as soon as they were weaned so I never got to know them well.

Sometime in 1999 I found a compact yellow dog lying weak with hunger under a rambutan tree. He had an ugly sore on his back, the remains of a rope around his neck, and his fur had been ravaged by mange. But his eyes sparkled with soulful intelligence and I was compelled to nurture him back to health. My black bitch Anubis took an immediate shine to the short-legged chap I decided to call Wong. Within a week Wong was looking fine and cheerful again. It dawned on me that he could be one of Lulu's pups, born in that very house more than a year earlier. Perhaps he had been unkindly treated and opted to break loose. His instincts had taken him straight back to his birthplace...

Wong and Anubis truly loved one another. She was fond of grooming him and when she got in heat, was exceedingly patient with him, crouching down to facilitate penetration (Anubis was much taller than her royal consort Mr Wong).

Wong was extremely gentle with humans and showed a great fondness for felines. His first cat buddy was Mira, who loved rubbing herself against her canine protector and purring loudly. In fact, Mr Wong was greatly loved by everybody who had any contact with him. Even the Orang Asli were fond of him, because he never once barked at them, chased their kids or harassed motorcyclists. They kept asking me for Wong's offspring but, truth be told, Orang Asli dogs generally don't live very long.

Barely a month old, Pocahontas discovered that Uncle Wong was a warm and wonderfully bullyable friend. She was undeterred by all the tall tales I told her about Mr Wong's murky past as Chief Inspector Wong of the Special Branch (dishonorably discharged from the Force because of his unorthodox interrogation methods)...

Mr Wong enjoys the cool of the evening with Marie Cocteau - who started a fan club for the Dog of Dogs and appointed herself Purresident. Poor Marie Cocteau vanished within a few days of Baggins and Milly's arrival in Pertak. Baggins and Milly are Mary's cat-chasing mutts who grew up in Puchong (a rough neighborhood overspilling with dog-hating datuks). Baggins got into my bad books almost immediately by biting Mr Wong on the leg in a kurang ajar display of alpha male superiority. This incident broke Mr Wong's indomitable spirit and caused him to feel uneasy in his own territory.

But over the last few years Mr Wong had been showing signs of breathlessness and several times became listless and depressed. After a booster jab of multivitamins and some antibiotics, he would rally and regain his bounce. The thought that Mr Wong was, after all, a mortal being and may one day have to leave us saddened me greatly. So when a pretty female pup with Doberman Pinscher markings spontaneously appeared on the scene one day, I decided to let her stay and named her Lulu (in honor of Wong's mum). Perhaps Wong will take her as his child bride, I figured, and from their union an heir to the canine kingdom would be conceived.

As it turned out, Lulu's first litter consisted of two roly-poly pups I named Rupert and Amrita. Neither resembled Mr Wong in any way. Both had inherited their mother's chicken claw - extra toes on their hind legs that look a bit like rooster spurs.

Rupertino, a Valentino amongst dogs, was an exceedingly handsome fellow. Tragically, he was murdered together with mother Lulu on 25 May 2009 by a gang of demonically possessed Orang Asli (no thanks to the cheap brain-pickling spirits they enjoy guzzling). Another great Malaysian murder mystery that remains unsolved...

About six months before she was killed, Lulu gave birth to a single pup. A fat and feisty furball I decided to name Roger Reginald Putra because he arrived aound the time Raja Petra Kamarudin (Blogger King and webmaster of Malaysia Today) was miraculously released from unlawful detention under the evil ISA. It was a day I shall never forget, when it felt as if the winds of political change would blow away the hoodlums in high office like so much dandruff (although it would take a great deal longer than we thought...)

This little tyke was unmistakably descended from Mr Wong Beng Oi - the extreme cuteness of his being and shortness of his legs were a dead giveaway. Roger inherited his mother's characteristic rooster spur.

Roger Putra enjoyed a supremely happy puppyhood, took endless naps, and was adored by everybody.

On account of his thick coat Roger always seeks out the shadiest spots on hot days. Indeed, as a pup he would disappear from sight for hours - only to be discovered fast asleep behind the dragon jar in the bathroom, the coolest spot in the house.

Roger and his father, Mr Wong, were great buddies and only once had a falling out. The bone of contention was, what else? - a smelly bone Roger had been gnawing but when he abandoned it, his father took over and Roger didn't like that. Thought he was strong enough to stand up to the old man... he never again picked a fight with Wong Beng Oi alias B.O. Wong.

Roger, Wong and Mindy Coots aka Mrs Wong chill out on the veranda with my pet djembe.

Apart from food, sleep is a major preoccupation with Roger Reginald Putra.

I suspect there is some Wookie in Roger's lineage as he often makes Wookie sounds. Remember Chewbacca in Star Wars?

In December 2009 (three days before I was rushed to the Sungai Buloh Hospital by ambulance), Roger Putra failed to come home after chasing monkeys into the forest. I went to the river several times a day, calling for him - but heard no signs of a dog in distress. Then, on 21 December, as I was heading towards the car to be driven to the KKB hospital for a blood test, I saw Roger limping home. The adventurous tyke had been caught in an Orang Asli snare and somehow managed to free himself, though the wire had cut almost right through his right leg. Mary took him to the vet and with some antibiotics, antiseptic cream and a massive dose of TLC, he managed to heal completely.

Roger with Ayita Randhawa (whose mother is from Pertak Village).

Mr Wong used to compete with Roger for my affection. But now that Wong's gone, his beautiful, brave and beloved son will surely miss the wise and noble company of his splendid father, even though he shall relish being the new Dog of Dogs and King of All He Surveys...

Roger Reginald Putra in typical Lion King pose.


[First posted 27 August 2010]

Happy Birthday, Roger Putra!

For Wong so loved his Master
That he gave his only begotten Son, Roger,
That whosoever adoreth Him should never want
For affection, but experience everlasting joy!

Roger Reginald Putra, only begotten Son of Mr Wong, was born today (or around this time, I didn't note the exact moment, alas, not realizing how significant this particular birth would prove). In any case, I know it was the same day - or the day after - Raja Petra Kamarudin (RPK) was released from Kamunting by a truly courageous and honorable High Court judge. That's why he was named Roger Putra, as a tribute to one of the few princes on earth worthy of our love and respect. 7 November 2008, I recall most vividly, was a particularly joyful day for all truth-speaking, justice-loving Malaysians.

[Sadly, re-reading this less than 8 years later, my opinion of RPK has totally changed. His egotism and craving for creature comforts must have gotten the better of his conscience, for he has now become a hardcore Najibite-in-exile and an apologist for Ketuanan Melayu, apart from being the owner of a new BMW.]

Not only was RPK freed from unlawful detention under the evil ISA - but on the same day, Anwar Ibrahim also received a favorable judgment from Sessions Court judge S.M. Komathy Suppiah, allowing his sodomy case to be heard in her court where he might have been accorded a fair trial. However, the crooked Attorney-General appealed her decision and got it overturned by the Appeals Court. The case is now in complete shambles, bringing irredeemable shame to the Malaysian judiciary.

Roger Putra when he was a few weeks old, being mollycoddled by Anoora. Uma Pillai (from Australia) gets the credit for snapping this excellent baby portrait.

Roger, several months old, with a swollen right eye after getting stung by a wasp.

Roger in a pensive moment, looking very much like his illustrious father, the late Mr Wong Beng Oi.

At a very early age Roger began his love affair with the River and became a self-cleaning canine. That's why he's usually quite fragrant. This photo was snapped by my daughter Belle on one of her rare visits.

Roger grooming himself after a playful romp with his friend Prudence on the lawn.



Thank you, Roger Putra, for being such a reliable source of joy in our lives. Few dogs are fortunate enough to be born in our heavenly hologram, where they can run free and be constantly showered with love and good food.

Those of you who regularly read my blog might have noticed that in recent months I haven't had the inclination to say much about local or even global politics. The truth is, everything appears to be in a terminal deadlock. The old political order refuses to give way to the new - and even the new often seems to be repeating the mistakes of the old.

It's becoming clear that the economic and political games humans have been playing out in these holographic fields for thousands of years are now totally passé. We have no choice but to look within ourselves and recognize that these problems are externalizations of erroneous beliefs passed down the generations through the cultural matrix. Our financial institutions are far too recalcitrant to be redeemed and our political systems too corrupt and intertwined with the corporate mafia to be effective instruments of the people's will. And even the people - or at least a great proportion of them - are still trapped in analog mode, reacting with fear to every artificial crisis, instead of responding with love, compassion and understanding.

More and more I'm convinced that we can only liberate ourselves as individuals - one at a time - by our own efforts. How? By consciously upgrading our operating systems and software. Uninstalling irrelevant, divisive and stultifying beliefs and replacing them with open-ended, inclusive, and holistic sensory and neurological perceptions. In other words, it's time to outgrow beliefs that limit and confine us - and define us by nationality, race and religious affiliation.

Imagine: if at least 10% of the population spontaneously chose to disregard race or religion as markers of true identity, the idea of fighting over turf for illusory causes would swiftly become obsolete. Race-based political parties would overnight become meaningless and ineffectual. Humans would quickly become self-governing, eliminating the need for external government - and political parties.

[First posted 7 November 2009]

In Loving Memory of Mr Vertical Eyebrows...

Roger Reginald Putra (7 Nov 2008 ~ 14 Dec 2010)

Father & Son: Mr Wong & Roger Putra

Roger was more than just a dog, much more than a member of the family - he was like a second son to Anoora and me. His father, the illustrious Mr Wong Beng Oi, was a greatly beloved part of our lives for more than 10 years. Mr Wong enjoyed an enormously happy life with us and died of old age in August 2010.

Roger was his genetic legacy, the only pup in the second litter born of a beautiful young bitch with Doberman pedigree who mysteriously appeared at our doorstep one morning and decided to stay. The name "Lulu" just came to me, so that's what I decided to call her.

Roger's beautiful mum, Lulu

At that time it didn't occur to me that Mr Wong's mum had also been named Lulu - Lulu Yap, to be precise, and her mother was a minute but majestic full-blooded Spitz known at various times as Curly-Wurly, Mrs Curlington-Wurlington, and Madam Wu. In short, Roger Reginald Putra was the great-grandson of Madam Wu - one of the original Magick River canine corps, left behind by her previous owners, Mavis and Clifford, when they migrated to Australia in 1990.

Roger Putra was named in honor of my friend Raja Petra (better known as RPK the Blogger King) who was miraculously freed from ISA detention on 7 November 2008. Even as we rejoiced at the good news, we discovered that Lulu had given birth to a solitary roly-poly pup who looked pretty much like Mr Wong. Initially I couldn't choose between Reggie or Roger, so Reginald was included as a middle name, adding a touch of class. Occasionally, Roger was referred to as the Ten-Tit-Tot because he had no siblings with whom to compete for his mother's milk. As a result he quickly became also known as Fatty Boy.

Roger's handsome brother Rupert,
murdered in May 2009

The background to how Roger abruptly vanished from our lives on the morning of 14 December 2010 has already been recorded in a blogpost dated 25 December 2010. Even after a whole year has elapsed, my heart feels heavy when I think about the utter meaningless of this sub-humanly brutal act of violence, directed against me via our beloved canine son. 

When Roger was barely 6 months old, his mother Lulu and elder brother Rupert had both been murdered on the same night by a bunch of drunken Orang Asli. This was perhaps the canine equivalent of the Kennedy family...

In Roger Putra's case, the prime suspect happens to be a social misfit in his early 50s named Uha Anak Penengah. However, I have yet to obtain incontrovertible proof that it was Uha who slashed Roger with his parang - and not any of 3 or 4 other middle-aged Temuan males, each of whom is perfectly capable of such a reprehensible act, having allowed their minds to be taken over in service of Umno's land-grab agenda via the JHEOA (recently incorporated as JAKOA or Jabatan Kemajuan Orang Asli) who view me as a subversive thorn in their side, because I stand in the way of their money-making and control-freak schemes.

It was no use reporting this heinous crime to the police (to whom dogs are haram and therefore better off dead or non-existent; in any case, the police have shown so little interest in the gruesome murder of a Mongolian beauty 5 years ago, why would they bother investigating the death of a dog?) And even if I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that Uha was the murderer, what else could I do except kill him? That wouldn't bring Roger Putra back to life - and I'd end up spending the rest of my days in prison. 

Roger Putra & Ayita: unmitigated beauty

Uha, like his father, suffered from warty skin and a surly, truculent disposition. He had had very little luck with the opposite sex. Five years ago Uha had tricked a girl from Pahang into marrying him, but she died mysteriously within a week. The day Roger Putra was murdered, he was accompanying a very beautiful Moroccan lady on her morning walk. The sight of such unmitigated beauty must have infuriated Uha. If he couldn't possess it, he would viciously and vicariously destroy it...

A humble offering to Roger's sweet memory

No, the only recourse was to acknowledge the abject misery and absolute pathology of Uha's existence - to empathize with his emptiness and pain, to understand that his soul was in a terribly dark place, and to envision his eventual enlightenment and liberation from the hellish horror of his own hateful life. Uha seemed to me the embodiment of hopeless frustration, self-loathing and envy; unable to imagine a happier destiny for himself, his inner rage and feelings of inadequacy were externalized as aggression, hostility and violence. Indeed, this is the root cause of  fanatical bigotry and xenophobia manifesting as militant jingoism - the very stuff that spawns ultra-rightwing, fascist mobs like Pekida and Perkasa.

It began raining as soon as I set off with Anoora and Ahau on a pilgrimage to the approximate spot where Roger Putra met his untimely death a year ago. Getting drenched despite our umbrellas, I found a small rock nestled between two rubber trees and placed some flowers and a candle upon it. A few sticks of incense and a couple of soggy crackers completed our humble offering. As I completed the simple ceremony, the rain abruptly stopped and a brilliant ray of sunlight flashed from the treetops. The three of us washed ourselves by a small waterfall on our way home. 

Beloved friend and canine son, Roger the irreplaceable

Losing Roger Putra has been the single most painful and tragic experience of my life - even more intense than returning home 40 years ago to discover my pet cockatoo had been stolen. At least I could hope that she would be kindly treated wherever she was. 

Roger Reginald Putra was the perfect embodiment of beauty, robust health, innocence, joie de vivre, and an irrepressible sense of adventure. The sight of him was enough to bring cheer and contentment to my heart. To think that anyone could possibly kill my beloved canine companion just to get at me encapsulated all the cruelty, violence, hate, and repressed sexuality that have kept humanity in the bondage of sadomasochism and armed conflict for countless generations - delaying, if not thwarting, the possibility of heaven on earth, instead of in the hereafter.

The (attempted) murder of joy