Poodle

Perth, July 2003.

One of the best times of my life.



That was where I saw a huge black poodle, a pretty handsome one at that, for the first time in my life.

I couldn't resist a picture with the fella.

Yesterday, I spotted yet another huge black poodle, chilling out at a cafe. It brought a huge smile to my face; it made me remember the first encounter. This fella, named Edwin, wasn't as well-groomed nor obedient as the Perth fella, but the face was a huge friendly one, with huge eyes almost covered by the massive amount of curly hair upon his face. It reminded me somewhat of Tommy.

Again, I couldn't resist another picture. Edwin's human kinda ruined it, though. Edwin wasn't quite disciplined as well, and it took me forever to capture this moment. If you looked carefully, I 'cheated' by having to grab his face toward the camera.




The poodle is but one of the many beautiful memories I had of that cold wintery July.

I remember Perth well. Not the exact place, but the many things and 'adventures' we did, we saw, we encountered. I recall most of all the week-long bliss we lived in, after a three- or four-month long separation - the first time we were ever away from each other for so long.



I love best the fact we got ourselves a tiny little apartment for the week, complete with a kitchenette and a small living area. I remember the nights we stayed in to cook - the beef steaks and potatoes, and the instant noodles - just like how we used to back in Hall days. I remember how we snuggled into bed and slept till noon the next day right after dinner, because there was absolutely nothing you could so in wintery Perth past six in the evening - except hanging out at Formosa and unless you wouldn't mind being jostled by Aussies in white pubs or being stabbed by Viets in Asian pubs (or at least, that's what he said).

Oh, for sure I remember those nights at Formosa - my training ground then for Yahoo! Pool and the cafe of the then-popular bubble teas. I remember logging into MSN (or was it still ICQ then?) and having friends asking me, "Eh, I thought you went on holiday? How come you're online almost every evening?" I remember how embarrassed I felt having to admit my no-life nights in Perth.

I remember the huge fish-n-chips meal I tucked into in Fremantle, where he brought me the first day I arrived. The meal of the Ozzies, I thought. I remember seeing many Ozzies hanging out in the cafes in power-suits and heels, and thinking, "No wonder they say Ozzies play harder than they ever work."



I remember driving for an hour out to the countryside (I cannot remember the name, though I know it starts with a letter "Y") and riding a horse by the beach for the first time in my life.



Of course I remember the yellow vintage Triumph I got to drive for the week. I remember driving him back to college on mornings where he had training flights, and hanging out at the cafe alone waiting for him and watching jets-in-training taking off and landing in the open fields in front of me.



I remember the adventures we had: my horse going berserk for a while and kicking the one behind him, causing the poor girl to fly right off onto her bum; the crazy police-car chase that went up the wrong way on a one-way street that we saw in the dead of the night; the dude who made a fast right turn after the lights went green and immediately crashed right into a parked car.

I remember not wanting to leave when it was time for me to go.

We separated for another five months before he came home in December for a while.

I'd never know what happened in those five months.


I remember too much. The memories are too good that they pain me.

Somehow, I wish they would go away from my mind.