Halalan 2010: Pinoy Style

Halalan means Election.

But before the big day, there was the big bedlam!
Months and months of noisy, senseless campaigns
bordering on stolen music blaring all day,
papers wasted and pasted everywhere,
on trees, electric posts, even one's gate and fence!
Add to that all those tarpaulins and useless giveaways
that does not say anything about platforms.
No programs for animal welfare.
No treats, no freebies, no drools.

My job was to bark at ANYBODY
who will paste ANYTHING
on the post near our house.
I got successful until this one candidate . . .
. . . who probably pasted it while I was taking a nap!
This candidate DID NOT GET our vote!


Welcome to Election 2010 in the Philippines.
The hoomans have to vote for:
a President, a vice President, 12 Senators, one Partylist group,
a Congressman, a Governor, a Vice Governor, 3 Board Members,
a Mayor, a Vice-Mayor, and 8 Councilors.
Woofy-woof-woof-looooonnnnnng!

Yeah.
They had to vote for more than 30 items
that I figured they need to camp out in the precinct!
And even if they are having their FIRST
AUTOMATED ELECTIONS
the peeps are still using
MANUAL hooha.
Beats me.

First, they have to queue for HOURS
. . . under a hot 37 degrees heat
of crowded, tension-filled public school . . .

. . . and find their precinct
and locate if their names are still listed . . .
. . . and check if the PCOS machine
(the only automated stuff in the whole hooha)
was already tested (long rolls of paper on right)
and join the queue for hours,
get a ballot, stuff yourself in chairs meant for kids,
fill the egg-shaped slot beside your candidates names,
that is, if you can read the point 4 fonts
on a 2-feet long paper that MUST not be
stained, folded or else the PCOS will reject it!

Of course, if your name is missing,
or if you accidentally drooled, er, sneezed into your ballots,
or whatever reasons the pcos refused to accept your ballots,
you go to the PPCRV (the church watchdog, er watchpeeps)

After getting dehydrated
and surviving for hours
you leave the school
and you get bombarded
by all sorts of vendors!
. . . selling anything from ice cream, softdrinks,
cellphone load, t-shirts, fans, whatever . . .

And when you passed and survived
all that traffic and heat
you get rewarded by . . .
. . . yup! A Free Ride!

. . .passing by a traffic-free street . . .
. . . where residents are either asleep
inside airconditioned rooms
or inside refrigerators
or immersed in their tub!

And what do you get?
Stained nails, yuck!
The people above are the officers of our homeowners group.
They are the ones making sure animal issues
raised by your drooly barky SuperDog
gets attended to faster than your tails can spin!

In our house Heaven, I get . . .
. . . happy keepers who lined up fast
voted and got home faster than others.

I should be happy too.
After all, whoever Keeper voted . . .
. . . is also MY Vote.
The Mayor I visited last time and gave free anti-rabies shots to all dogs in my community got re-elected. So did the barangay Head who is now the Vice-Mayor. Keeper said that even if she did not vote for Noynoy Aquino, Noynoy's presidency will surely accommodate animal rights and welfare! Popsy Sumo and Luchie voted for Noynoy! Now the question is: if everybody calls him President Noynoy and treat him like a brother and make him care for a dog, I'm off to work for him big time! After all, I am the only dog included in the iamninoy project of Noynoy's famous parents!


Also, last week,
Keeper met with "dog mommies"
The four hands include Keeper,
one of my gurlfriends Happy of GreenwoodsClinic,
Irene who lost Charlie recently,
and Ria of the Piappies
my wired furry friends wifi and wimax, er
Wai Pai and Wai Max, new pups of Princess.
These hoomans met to bond, laugh,
grieve together (over Bogart, Charlie, Koko, etc.).
I cried hearing Keeper narrate their stories.
I got touched when I received some gifts . . .

And at the end of this long week . . .
. . . what really matters is the friendship
and the assurance that somebody . . .
somebody is looking after me . . .
and my furry friends . . .