Last year was a year when I visited my family quite often. Some of it was unplanned of course with the death of 3rd uncle, but the rest was pretty much planned.

From these visits I’ve collected a few more tid bits about my family’s history.

The first was about my family’s dog back in Vietnam, Phuc Ma.

I’m not sure what kind of dog it was, but it was a mutt and it was brindle.

The story of him came up because I brought Pickles up for 2nd auntie’s memorial back in August.

Again, family loved Pickles and can’t believe how well behaved he is. Big Auntie kept mentioning that he looks a lot like Phuc Ma and that’s when story time happened.

It was then cleared that there are similarities in looks between Pickles and Phuc Ma, but they didn’t exactly look like each other.

But Phuc Ma was a great dog. My grandpa’s dog. He’ll always accompany my grandpa to and back from the farm. He’ll stand guard outside the house and what not. He knows where 2nd Uncle lives too.

He’s just a great dog and it seems everyone loved him too.

The sad thing is that when they all picked up roots and left Vietnam, they had to leave Phuc Ma behind.

And that’s when there’s a sad turn in the story.

Because Vietnam was so poor during that time, there really wasn’t much to eat, so they do actually have to eat dogs.

I forgot who it was that went back to visit Vietnam, but he asked about the dogs that his family had.

It seems that the dogs that were on the farm were stolen and either were eaten or kept as pets. Let’s hope for the latter. But Phuc Ma wasn’t either.

It seemed that he was so loyal and loved the family so much, he’s gone mad. He was stricken with fear when he couldn’t find his beloved family. He’ll search my grandpa’s house and my uncle’s house. Always back and forth, forth and back, hoping that the family would show up. But they never did.

It seems no one stolen him to eat because he’s gone mad. I guess he died a sad and lonely death. I don’t know what happened.

It’s so sad and tragic at what happened. He sounds like he was a great fucking dog, a loyal dog. It’s just sad what had to happen.

The one thing that struck me as odd about family was that hearing them wax poetic about this beloved best friend, it seems that they all loved dogs. I just don’t understand why they didn’t want to get one as a pet.

I mean, watching and seeing how mom treats Pickles, it does genuinely seem like she likes him.

I still remember a cute thing that happened while I was up there, besides Pickles walking further away from family while they were talking about him. He doesn’t like to be talked about and he knows when he is. Too funny.

But no, the one thing that I’ll always remember is the night after the memorial, I came home late from dinner and mom and big auntie were already home already. The first thing that Pickles did when he got into the house was walk to the living room where mom and big auntie were sitting and said hi before he went upstairs.

That’s just too cute.

Another tidbit of information that I learned over winter break while speaking with Loretta was about what sister thought about the family portraits and Pickles. Apparently Loretta was showing sister the pictures I took and sister made a remark that the only thing missing from the family portrait was Pickles. When I heard this, I was surprised. I was surprised that she didn’t’ say Van.

I love my dog and I’m glad that my family loves my dog.

* * *

Out of all my uncles, it is only 7th uncle that doesn’t have any kids. I always found it weird that he didn’t and every time I ask my grandma why he doesn’t, she’ll always say it’s because 7th auntie was too old.

I believe she’s about 10 years older than my uncle, but still, that doesn’t mean that they can’t have any children.

It wasn’t until 3rd uncle’s funeral that I learned the truth.

Apparently, 7th uncle and auntie did have a child. He would have been as old as Kiety if he was still alive today.

He died during child birth, and it is a sad story.

At that time 7th uncle and auntie lived in the city away from the family. They lived in an apartment building and they were three floors up. This was her first pregnancy.

When her contractions came, she didn’t know that she was in labor. She thought she had a stomach ache. If she was around family, they would have known that she’s in labor and they would have her deliver.

Unfortunately, 7th auntie didn’t know. Again, she thought she had a stomach ache and had to go to the bathroom.

With this, I’m still not quite sure, but at that time, the bathrooms were these holes out pack in the patio or just a hole down to the outside of the building. She was crouching over the whole, pushing, and not knowing. She delivered, pushing the baby out and he fell three stories down.

By the time she realizes what happened, it was too late. I guess she managed to get him back, but he died later.

It’s so sad.

I don’t think she got pregnant ever again. To think, I would have another cousin today if things were different.

So sad indeed.