Being Brave for a Dying Dog

My dog will stay by my side through the harshest storm, while a person will leave when it gets windy. – St. Francis of Asisi (translated from a German quotation)

At 4am on a cold October morning, Buddy, our Boston Terrier, came to my side of the bed with a distressed look. He was making heaving sounds, and looking at me as if I knew what to do.

I said, “C’mon,” and we went out the back door. He was so thin and weak, but he still managed to run out the door and carefully walk down the steps. He found a green spot next to the apple tree. Then, he started to vomit. His whole body contracted heavily. It was difficult to watch. He looked like he was in a lot of pain. He was losing blood, and the vet still didn’t know why.

After a minute, the spasms stopped. Then he just sat there, looking blankly, as if he contemplated his condition. I called to him, “Buddy, let’s go home.” He looked towards me and bowed his head slightly. He was quiet for another minute, and finally decided to walk back up the stairs. He climbed up slowly and carefully, with his ears drooped.

Once inside the kitchen, he sat on a pillow on the floor as I turned off the back-door light. He looked at me with guilt. I said, “It’s okay, Buddy. It’s not your fault.” I stroked his back. He lost a lot of weight. I could feel his bones. I offered him water and he refused. Then, I headed towards the master’s bedroom and told him, “C’mon. Let’s get to bed.” Slowly, he stood up and followed me to the room.

He walked to his hairy blanket on the floor and sat down. I sat down beside him and told him to lie down and sleep. He did lie down, but his eyes were wide open. I just couldn’t leave him.

So, I lay down beside him on the floor, not thinking about how cold it was. I wrapped a blanket around him and stroked his head. Sometimes, he would turn to look up to see if I was still there. And then, when he saw my eyes, he would lie back again. Quietly, I told him, “Hang in there, Buddy. We’ll see your doctor soon.” After about ten minutes, he was content and snoring.

I went back to bed and hoped that he wouldn’t have another episode that night.

Then, at 6am, I heard him walk up to my side of the bed again. I woke up startled, thinking he needed to go out again. But he wasn’t heaving or making any noises. He was just looking straight at me, like he wanted something.

I told him, “wait, stay,” and he sat beside the bed. I took his shaggy blanket and put it over my bed. Then, he put his paws on it and looked at me again. That was always the signal to boost him up on to the bed.

I lifted this lighter dog up onto the bed, and wrapped him with the blanket. He lay down without hesitation and got to sleep immediately. He treasured his spot.

Buddy was a fighter. He could take anything, as long as I assured him. And for one brief moment, with only an hour of sleep left until the alarm went off, everything was back to normal for Buddy. He didn’t mind if I shoved him slightly so I could get some space. He just knew that I wasn’t disappointed about his barfing. He felt at home. He belonged.

The following week, when we had decided that Buddy should not go through the pain anymore, I thought about the night he came to me for help.

I decided then, just as I had in the past that I should be strong for the dying. I should be strong for everyone. I owe it to Buddy for his loyalty and unconditional love.

While the family cried, and said goodbye to Buddy, I held back. He loved the hugs and the attention. Every time I moved about the room, he looked anxious, as if I was leaving. I just kept telling Buddy, “I’m just here.”

When he got drowsy, I looked into his eyes, and he looked back. “I’m still here. Go to sleep good doggie.” He didn’t look frightened at all. He was loved and at peace. It was only when he was asleep that I left him. My son, Mike stayed with him until the very end.

I wonder if doing that for Buddy meant anything at all. Anyone who never had a pet would say, “he’s only a dog.” But he was the dog that drew strength from a human that was going to be there for him, just as he was always there with me.

My wife and kids didn’t see me cry. At one point, they thought I was heartless. The next morning, I grieved by myself.

I needed to record this, so that I can remember what it was like to be the rock for another being – for Buddy – the dog that loved us unconditionally.

The Thank You Bus

Seventeen years ago, we bought a house in the Upper Delbrook neighbourhood of North Vancouver. Two weeks after we moved in, my wife gave birth to our third child, our beautiful daughter. Our car, a van, became the right size for our family.

My wife drove the kids to school with the van every day, leaving the baby with grandma at home. I took a bus to work in downtown Vancouver from a bus stop just at the corner.

After a long day's work, I'd take a crowded bus home. By the time it got to my neighbourhood, I could get a seat and look out the window. Just before my stop, I would see my two sons sitting on the branches of their "own" trees, reading comic books, and my wife at the doorsteps with our daughter in her arms. What a wonderful sight to come home to! So, at the bus stop, as I am leaving the back doors, I shout, "Thank you!" to the driver. After all, he brought me safely home to my family.

Every day, I'd say thanks to the bus driver for bringing me home. Sometimes, people would give me strange looks. But since I got started saying thanks, I decided to keep doing so. This went on for months. After a while, the bus driver would wave back at me. As far as I remembered, no one else thanked the bus driver.

The following year, family schedules got more complicated, so we bought a second car. I drove the kids to school before heading downtown to work. I stopped taking the bus.

Many years passed, and the kids are grown up. My tree climbers have learned to drive cars. Once again, I had to take the bus downtown.

On that very first day coming home in the bus, as the standing room thinned and I finally got a seat, something unusual happened.

On every requested stop, people leaving the back doors were shouting "Thank you!" to the driver! Seniors, teenagers, nannies, business people, foreign students and kids. At every stop, they said "Thank you" as the doors opened. And the bus driver responded by saying, "Have a great day!"
How did courtesy become the de facto standard in this bus, when it was an anomaly years ago? Did I have anything to do with this?

I believe courtesy is a slow-acting virus. If you start being nice - if you start treating people with respect and dignity - others will eventually follow. It does take time.

To this day, when you take the 246 bus, at about 5 p.m. onwards, you will hear people thank the driver in the Delbrook and Montroyal areas.

See more at: http://www.nsnews.com/opinion/letters/treat-others-with-respect-and-dignity-it-will-catch-on-1.352377#sthash.RfLtoAJJ.dpuf

Seventeen years ago, we bought a house in the Upper Delbrook neighbourhood of North Vancouver. Two weeks after we moved in, my wife gave birth to our third child, our beautiful daughter. Our car, a van, became the right size for our family.
My wife drove the kids to school with the van every day, leaving the baby with grandma at home. I took a bus to work in downtown Vancouver from a bus stop just at the corner.
After a long day's work, I'd take a crowded bus home. By the time it got to my neighbourhood, I could get a seat and look out the window. Just before my stop, I would see my two sons sitting on the branches of their "own" trees, reading comic books, and my wife at the doorsteps with our daughter in her arms. What a wonderful sight to come home to! So, at the bus stop, as I am leaving the back doors, I shout, "Thank you!" to the driver. After all, he brought me safely home to my family.
Every day, I'd say thanks to the bus driver for bringing me home. Sometimes, people would give me strange looks. But since I got started saying thanks, I decided to keep doing so. This went on for months. After a while, the bus driver would wave back at me. As far as I remembered, no one else thanked the bus driver.
The following year, family schedules got more complicated, so we bought a second car. I drove the kids to school before heading downtown to work. I stopped taking the bus.
Many years passed, and the kids are grown up. My tree climbers have learned to drive cars. Once again, I had to take the bus downtown.
On that very first day coming home in the bus, as the standing room thinned and I finally got a seat, something unusual happened.
On every requested stop, people leaving the back doors were shouting "Thank you!" to the driver! Seniors, teenagers, nannies, business people, foreign students and kids. At every stop, they said "Thank you" as the doors opened. And the bus driver responded by saying, "Have a great day!"
How did courtesy become the de facto standard in this bus, when it was an anomaly years ago? Did I have anything to do with this?
I believe courtesy is a slow-acting virus. If you start being nice - if you start treating people with respect and dignity - others will eventually follow. It does take time.
To this day, when you take the 246 bus, at about 5 p.m. onwards, you will hear people thank the driver in the Delbrook and Montroyal areas.
- See more at: http://www.nsnews.com/opinion/letters/treat-others-with-respect-and-dignity-it-will-catch-on-1.352377#sthash.RfLtoAJJ.dpuf

Level 5 Leadership

Good is the enemy of Great.

The Stockdale Paradox: Recognize the brutal facts of your current reality while at the same time keep faith that you will endure in the end.

5 Reasons Not to Start a Restaurant

[As published in Philippine Canadian Inquirer, 1/13/2012]

Are you thinking of becoming a restaurateur? Reconsider entering the food industry at this time. Here are five reasons why serving meals is not a profitable venture.

There is a big secret in the food and restaurant industry within Canada. Restaurants are suffering, but few admit that they are. You see, if they do admit, consumers are even less likely to visit their restaurants - speeding up their demise.

Two years ago, Sandy Daza and I closed our restaurants in British Columbia within months of each other. We agreed that Canada is a brutal place to make money in the food industry.

And yet, many are attracted to the prospect of having their own restaurant. Blame this on the Food channels. They have glamorized eating out and restaurant ownership without considering how many food industry entrepreneurs have lost their life savings on that dream.

Five situations make this economic environment toxic for restaurants:

The economic downturn in the USA in October 2008. Even though we are in Canada, the USA is our largest trading partner. While Americans try to recover, Canadian consumers are cautious. Eating out is classified as consumer discretionary spending, meaning consumers do not have to buy that service. In the Christmas seasons since the downturn, restaurant sales dropped as Canadians focused their spending on gifts.

Food price inflation. The cost of each meal served has been going up. In the past year alone, vegetables are 13.2% more expensive. Meanwhile, restaurants can only increase prices by an average of 3% during the same period. The profit margin for every meal is dropping every year.

Price points. When the huge franchises like McDonalds noticed a 10% drop in overall restaurant spending, they needed a bigger piece of the pie to continue growing. Their response is called price points. A price point is a price that appeals to the next price-sensitive consumer. For example, a typical meal in 2007 might cost $6.99. The larger franchises started to offer meals at $5, $4, $3, $2, or even $1. If you had a choice of a full meal at $7 or a less filling meal at $2, I think you would go for the latter. Once that consumer is satisfied, he/she will not buy from the other restaurants for that meal, further contracting the restaurant industry.

Believe it or not, the Vancouver 2010 Olympics. This event pulled hundreds of thousands of people from all over BC into a small area in downtown Vancouver. There, consumers discovered the price points that their local restaurants were not offering. People were lining up for hotdogs and drinks for under $2. For the entire month of February 2010, sales in these few downtown fast foods and restaurants soured, to the detriment of restaurants outside that area. People got used to price points. They liked spending less for each meal.

Harmonized Sales Tax or HST. British Columbia and Ontario started collecting an extra 7 to 8% in taxes. Restaurants had to pass it on to the consumer. Already reeling from the downturn, food prices, competitor price points and the Olympics phenomenon, the small restaurants raised their prices and hid them behind the HST. Consumers are not dumb. They noticed, and goodwill was lost.

Restaurant associations admit that the market has contracted and there is an oversupply of restaurants. In 2011, an estimated one thousand restaurants closed down or exchanged ownership in British Columbia alone.

This is not to say stop building new restaurants. If you are still thinking of starting a business in the food industry, plan well for it. Be prepared with extra cash. Expect cutthroat competition and startup losses. But most of all, make sure you are offering something nobody else has or can copy, and at an attractive price.

The Improbable Dream

After 26 years, a father's wish is fulfilled. If only he knew.

[As published in the Philippine Asian Chronicle in British Columbia, Canada, October 15-30, 2010 issue]

Publishers note:
Sir Leo Valdes submitted this article in September of this year. Last month, his father passed away. I thought it fitting to publish it this month as the whole Christian world remembers loved ones who have gone to a better world. We always remember happy times and the worth of a person after he is gone. This article is a reminder for all of us to value and honour our loved ones while they are still with us. The Philippine Asian Chronicle family extend deep sympathy and condolences to the whole Valdes family.
- Roque "Bodeng" Juatco

In 1984, our family of nine siblings started to break up. There was no family squabble. The breakup was economic and political. Ninoy Aquinoy Jr. was assassinated a year earlier, and the future looked bleak under a Marcos regime.

My two elder brothers were the first to leave for the USA. Then, I took on an assignment in Austria. That Christmas, the remaining members of our family wrote letters and performed Christmas carols that they recorded on cassette tape.

Each cassette tape had a message from our parents. Mine was slightly different. In it, my father, who is terrible at showing emotion, choked as he told me how he felt. He said that this was the first time our family was not complete at Christmas.

With that message, it became my father's dream that somehow, sometime in the future, we would all be together again.

We almost made a full reunion happen in 1993, and again in 2003. But we were always missing some siblings.

Five years ago, my elder brother passed away suddenly. It was as if all hopes were dashed. The dream would never be fulfilled now, I thought. Deterioration set in. My father had Alzheimer's disease, and my mother had Parkinson's disease.

Last August 22, without trying, we achieved the improbable. All surviving siblings got together for my mother's 80th birthday. It was so overwhelming, that even I choked announcing it, "After 26 years, we are all here, together."

Back from the celebration, we reported to our dad. He was still in bed, just like he has been for the past three years. He has not spoken a word in over a year. He is awake only ten minutes each day.

We woke him up. "Hey, Papa. Guess what?" we said, "we're all here! All of us are here!"

No reaction. I only pray that he heard us.

-----

Back in Vancouver, I was in a meeting talking about our Filipino community. Someone suggested that we have as many organizations meet together to start the 2011 multi-city Independence Day celebrations from a single point.

Someone smirked, "Like that's going to happen!"

And I replied, we can dream.

I've seen organizations and individuals in Vienna that could never be seen in the same venue due to irreconcilable differences. And then I saw them get together for earthquake relief. The same is true in Vancouver for the Typhoon Ondoy effort.

I could never have imagined that disparate organizations would be seen in the same street parade at Unang Hirit sa Taginit.

I also never imagined in 26 years that our family would be complete again.

Can you imagine therefore, that somehow, sometime in the future, the whole Philippine community in Vancouver could be one in a single joyous occasion?

25th Anniversary of A Very Valdes Christmas

A Very Valdes Christmas

In December 1984, Bud and Auring Valdes and their children put together a performance on tape for their three sons who left the Philippines that year.

These are their songs in MP3 format:

• Sa Paskong Darating
• Christmas Story
• Sino si Santa Claus?
• Silver Bells
• Pasko ng Madla
• Silent Night
• We wish you a Merry Christmas

[High resolution picture of above CD cover]

Performed by Bud and Auring Valdes; Franz, Noel, Marj, Heidi, Patrick, Trix, JP. Accompaniment by Senen Gomez

Merry Christmas 2009!

Enduring Family Businesses

This presentation is about how families successfully pass their businesses to their children and over several generations. This is directed at family businesses that are getting close to a "passing the baton" stage.

Enduring Family Businesses

View more presentations from Leo Valdes.