Spare the Goat

So we got my Dad a chain saw. He spent the first two weeks reading the manual and every single bit of literature my mom dug up about the thing over the internet. Forbid anyone to try to start it. Any other person would not be able to wait more than 5 minutes before taking the thing outside and cutting the first cut-able tree in sight. Provided by a DENR-permit, of course.

Finally, after making sure that he knows every single possible thing there is to know about his brand-spanking new Husqvarna 353, my dad is ready for this chain saw's debut. But wait, they're looking for a young goat suitable for "padugo". Padugo literally means "make something bleed". Every superstitious old-fashioned person in Argao know that a good padugo assures you safety, prosperity and luck.

I have witnessed many times when a chicken, a pig or a goat or any combination of these animals were killed and cooked to celebrate something. A new artificial well, my brother's circumcision, my graduation. And countless birthdays. The padugo always ends up as good food. But the whole bloody proceeding isn't a pretty sight.

Three years in the United States has jaded me. Leave the goat alone, I told my parents. The poor thing has nothing to do with me buying you a chainsaw! I don't want to be responsible for a little goat's death. No! I'm sure all my dad's friends are preparing the Tanduay and bahal to go with the goat dishes going their way.

I'm taking this to a global level. Papa Loding, please leave the darn goat alone! Let it live its life to the fullest and maybe eat the leaves of the trees that the chainsaw will cut. I will not be buying spare parts lest more animals get killed.