For years Al has been parading around referring to our dogs as "asos." And for years I thought that it was just another sound example of his insanity. I mean, walking around calling things by nonsense names isn't too far removed from any of Al's other habits when confronting
the world. When Al puts four digits from his left hand to his face and makes a face of disgust, I know from all of my past experiences with him, he will follow his hand motions with a high pitched, "Bobby Bayouk-son!" (bye-YOOK-son). He will then repeat it around six times, each getting louder and higher pitched. Now I can't tell you who exactly Mr. Robert Bayouk-son is, but he's been a topic of conversation for years in my household. As legendary as Santa Claus is to a four-year-old (or a fourteen-year-old if you live two doors down) the rest of us in this house talk of Mr. Bayouk-son with great amusement and fascination. We've come to figure that he must not have been a sincerely profound character in Al's life because he is only mentioned when LuLu decides that pooping outside is overrated or when Al decides to smell the lint that has been wedged under his toenail for the past seven weeks.
After procrastinating for nearly twenty years I finally built up the strength (and the courage, who wants this looney toon to be correct after all these years?) to see if Al's childhood imagination is relentless or if he does indeed belong in a padded Filipino prison. I found that in Tagalog (the mother country's native tongue) "aso" means dog. I'm not sure if "aso" in the plural tense is "asos" but Al has been right all along. Pointing at LuLu and exclaiming, "That, my friend, is a little ASO!" She sure is. I am happy to have some sort of sign that I will not become completely insane by the age of forty, however I am still stuck in a world of confusion. Who is this Bobby Bayouk-son, and why does he remind Al of terrible smells?
Some "Asos":


Peekaboo.

Chase. Behind bars where he belongs.

LuLu.

Phi Mu.
I could have ran with that one.
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