Bruno the Dog

He was not my dog. Bruno was my dad’s dog, long time ago, in late 1930s when my dad was a young boy. I know Bruno from my dad’s bed time stories. Stories that he told me long time ago, when I was a very young girl.

My dad was born in a tiny island of Saparua, in the East of Indonesia. He lived in the old Dutch Fort Dursteede, overlooking the gorgeous blue sea and white sand beach. This is where the story started.

Growing up in the midst of nature’s wonder, my dad’s childhood was spent most of the time running around from home to the sea, swimming, diving, and fishing. His dog Bruno came along with him wherever he went. As my dad went free diving for pearls or just swimming around with his friends, Bruno the dog played in the water, jumping and running happily.

Bruno was not always happy and friendly though. According to my dad, he could be rather scary and intimidating to naughty kids and bullies. My dad had a special bond with Bruno, as if Bruno could read his mind. In fact, my dad has always had special relationships with animals and Mother Nature. Later in his life as an air crash investigator, he encountered a monkey that saved his life. He passed this belief to me that sometime, strange as it may sound, creatures big and small could be representing our guardian angels.

My dad never likes bullies and oppressors. So did Bruno the dog. In dad's childhood adventures, Bruno was his little sidekick. One day, naughty boys teased and bullied a sweet little girl called Sintje – she was my dad’s childhood sweetheart. My dad got into a fight, and Bruno joined in. Bruno did not bite. As my dad – my hero – scared off the bullies, Bruno growled and barked and the bullies ran away.

The best part of my dad’s bedtime story is this: Bruno chased the naughty boys, and as they ran, they fell face-down into a pile dog poo. Bruno saved the day.

I cannot remember the details, nor can I verify these bedtime stories, but I remember the laughter that my dad caused. I never know Bruno the dog, but I am glad that he filled my childhood with bed time stories that taught me about how bad people will always learn a hard lesson while the good will have the last laugh.