Furry Magneticism

Furry things tend to have a gravitational pull on me. My eyes get wide, my hands start making their way to caress the soft texture, and my brain says, "Must...touch!" Blankets, rugs, my sister's fur rabbit (poor Thumper) jacket, newborn baby heads, cats and dogs--I gotta touch 'em all! Lately I have been having a problem with one furry creature--my cousin's girlfriend's dog. I consider myself a cuddler/squeezer/lover, but I find myself wanting to kick the rascal.

Her name is Missy. She is a 15-inch-long Pekingese with a dirty white-ish-beige fur coat and frog eyes popping out from her tiny head. My cousin has been dating his gf for about over a year now and Missy has unfortunately become a fixture in his household, which I visit every weekend. Sitting on top of all the sofas, leaving her nasty hair everywhere, strutting around the house as if she owned the place, she wreaks havoc upon the unsuspecting family members who bend down to pet her...namely, Me. Do I have cat breath? Did I eat dog in my past life? Why does she hate me so?

When I have food in my hands or when she thinks I'm going to eat something, she runs over to me, gives me that big-eyed puppy look and goes on her two hind legs to beg for food. I'm not supposed to give her human food because she usually vomits everything out, like a selfish fat kid who couldn't stop eating ice cream. For a split second I think that she has reformed, a born-again Agnes-lover. I take advantage of her in her hypnotic state and pet her. Awww, how precious...she likes me! But I am gravely wrong. The biyatch is a deceitful, conniving master con-dog. Once she obtains her treat, she reverts back to Dr. Jekyll and doesn't let me pet her. She's like that so-called friend who is only nice to you when she needs something but ignores you and has PMS all the other times. Once I was cooking, she stared at me THE WHOLE TIME, hoping that something will drop on the floor. I thought about accidentally dropping a piece of jalapeno pepper on the floor, but I'm not that cruel. Then she continued to stare at me as I ate my food. I felt really awkward, as if a homeless person was watching me eat a juicy steak. My mom taught me as a child that it's rude to stare at someone eat!

Back to my urgency to touch furry things. Missy has long fur, she's small and definitely squeezable (if she wasn't so evil) so of course I get temporary Alzheimer's whenever I pass by her and try to pet her. My brain says in slow motion, "NOOOO!!! DOOOOON'T DOOOO IT!!!!" But my hand quickly says, "Must. Touch. So. Furry!" I pet her and her lips start quivering, exposing her tiny incisors as if she was warning me to step away. But I don't heed the call and I quickly pet her, this time making contact with her back. The barking ensues, a high pitched sound combined with intermittent coughing. The intensity of her barks reverberates throughout her body, causing it to jump back a bit. I stare at this petite monstrosity in awe. Do you think you scare me? Do you think your bites would hurt me? I'm a freakin' giant compared to you. You're such a pathetic dog who tries to be tough but I know deep down you're terrified of me...Eh, who am I kidding, I'm the pathetic one trying to make a dog like me.

So now I'm trying to ignore her, walk past her without making eye contact with her. But she continues to harass me when I eat, getting all up in my grill. Luckily I found a way to scare her off--my Sonicare toothbrush. Ooooooh yes.

Death. Well, Almost.

The first time that I was truly terrified for my life was in July 2005 when I took a 14 seater hopper plane from San Jose, Costa Rica, to Quepos. My bf and I held on tight to each other as we flew into the wall of clouds and the pounding rain. The ride was bumpy, turning our stomachs upside down and jolting our hearts. I seriously thought I was going to die. Not just because of the ferocious turbulence and zero visibility, but also because the flight crew recorded the weight of my luggage and asked for my and my boyfriend's weight--we were the only two passengers on the plane!

Just recently, I went to Kauai with my bf and had another close run-in with death. It was a cloudy day and there was sporadic rainfall as we made our way north from Poipu to the Hanalei area. The freeway ended at Ke'e Beach and that was where the Kalalau Trail started, an 11 mile path for the crazies, or a 2 mile hike to Hanakapi'ai Beach for the less vigorous tourists. I wore boardshorts, a tank top, and red Puma shoes and carried a bag for my towel, water and my beloved camera.

The trail started off uphill with mostly rocks. I was out of breath 5 minutes into the hike but when I saw the lady with a 10 month old baby in arm, I couldn't give up so easily. If a baby can do it, I can do it! Further more up the trail, we passed by an elderly couple who were heading down. What the...?! If they can do it, I can do it! What's next? A paraplegic is going to go fly past by me? No, but a couple dressed in rain jackets, camping gear and a hiking stick passed by us. My bf and I looked at each other and our ESP was strong: we were sooooo not prepared for this.

I was concentrating so hard on the ground, careful to not slip off a rock, that I missed all the lush greenery around me, the twisted tree trunks, the hanging vines, the differently shaped leaves. It was simply beautiful.

We reached a part of the trail that offered a view of the ocean and it motivated me to continue. About 30 minutes into our hike, it started raining hard, completely soaking us, but the rain went away rather quickly, unfortunately, leaving behind slippery mud and rocks. Foot imprints belonging to other hikers marked the trail, as well as evidence of their fall. There were parts of the trail where the path was about 2 feet wide. Because of the steep incline, I had to cautiously plant every footstep to ensure that I had a steady hold. I knew I shouldn't have looked down the cliff but I was morbidly curious as to how far I would drop if I were to fall off.

At one point my bf almost fell but he didn't. Funny enough, I slipped and fell where he almost did, landing on my precious butt and hands. The red mud was slathered all over my shorts, and also made its way to my buttcheeks. Throughout the whole ordeal, I was praying so hard.

Every time we passed by hikers heading down, we'd ask them how far it was to the beach. "40 minutes." 20 minutes later, we'd ask someone else. "40 minutes." What the...?! We're never going to get there! But it was too late to turn around. When we finally started heading downhill, the mud was getting worse and worse. I dreaded stepping in the mud because it reminded me of the noise of stepping in a big pile of dog or horse poo. Anyways, we finally made it down but we had to travel down these giant rocks that were parallel to a huge rushing stream. It took us about 1 hour and 30 minutes.

1 hour and 30 minutes. A 2 mile steep hike. Slippery mud that almost killed me. Skin rubbed off from the back of my sneakers. You'd think the beach would magnificent, with white, powdery sands and calm, clear turquoise waters with a mermaid singing on the rocks. But nooooooooooo!!! My sacrifice was for nothing! There were signs warning of dangerous currents and over 10 deaths that occurred there. The beach was mediocre and the waves were too menacing to go into. Plus the wind was starting up and the sky began to drizzle. About 10 minutes after we arrived, my bf decides to take the 2 mile hike to the waterfall. It was already 3:30pm and I didn't want to cross the rivers or hold my bf back. So I stayed back while he ventured off.

Right next to me was a family--with a 2 year old girl! Crazy people! How the heck did they manage to get the stroller up and down the hike of death and then across the giant rocks? 15 minutes later, it rained again so I decided to head back. I even managed to get lost, missing the entrance to the trail, ending up at a dead end starring at a bunch of trees, thinking what the white man must have thought when he first saw the Chinese--"damn, they all look alike!" For a moment, I panicked, thinking that nobody is going to find my body if I died...but I found the entrance and made my courageous trek back.

I was alone for most of the hike. I moved like a sloth, scared that one wrong step would send me over the cliff. One point I almost slipped and grabbed onto a leaf. Most of the time I was praying. Then I thought to myself that I never kissed my bf goodbye. I would have felt horrible if something were to happen to him. He had to make the 4 mile hike back and he had no water. What if the sun went down before he got back? I even joked about not going back for him if he didn't return to the car. There was an immense feeling of relief when my feet touched the sands of Ke'e Beach. I tossed out the shoes and threw away my shirt. As I laid down on the beach, baby chicks came chirping toward me. Awww, how cute!...at first. Then I just shoo'd them off because I didn't want them to touch me. My bf surprisingly came back quickly with tales of death-defying victory. The waterfall wasn't spectacular. He crossed a river that was increasingly rising and almost fell in. He also slipped a couple times. But thank Buddha he came back!

The story could end here with my close brush with death but I'd like to share the fact that we were bitten by chiggers on the trail. Chiggers! They're microscopic! Our welts didn't appear until the night after the hike and I itched like cuh-ray-zee! I guess that's better than death.