PANCRACIO

My dog Pancracio died yesterday. I had him for 17 years. My two oldest sons gave him to me as a Christmas present.

"I know you don't like animals, Daddy, but Pancracio will change your mind," said Carlos, the oldest.

"I baptized him 'Pancracio'," said Joaquin, the younger of the two. "Everybody makes fun of the name Pancracio. Nobody will make fun of this Pancracio."

Pancracio was a German Shepherd. Seemingly against his fierce nature, he hated anyone who smacked of being a Nazi. On several occasions he tried to bite Anglos whom he suspected of believing their blood was purer.

There were many nights when I would sit in my backyard drinking wine and smoking a joint when I was married. Pancracio would nuzzle against me and point his nose at the joint in anticipation. I would exhale in his face. Pancracio loved to get high.

During his youth I would take him to Matamoros and enter him in dog fights. For more than five years he was undefeated, but like an elephant fearful of a mouse, Pancracio was scared shitless of Chihuahuas. In his last fight a Chihuahua severed the muscle in one of his legs and that was the end of his career. He did manage to catch the tiny dog in his jaws and break his neck. Pancracio retired undefeated.

Coach Rick Lepre once offered me $5000 for Pancracio. His German Shepherd Demetrio had been killed when his wife backed her car over him. Rick thought he would never replace his best friend, but the moment he saw Pancracio he forgot Demetrio. I couldn't part with Pancracio, but I gave him the alpha male from the next litter to save his marriage. Rick named him Mickey after Mantle.

Pancracio hated cats and I calculated that he killed more than a hundred during his lifetime. More than a few irate neighbors took me to court, but with the help of my lawyer Justo Leyes we were able to arrive at financial compromises and Pancracio lived to kill another day.

Unlike Rick, I will never find another dog to replace Pancracio. The women come and go, but there will only be one Pancracio.