9 of 79

Write now Article Tools

Page 3 of 4

we didn't fall.

We had a couple close calls. Once, he got run over by a bike. He hadn't yet developed a healthy fear of the bicycles that were the only means of transportation for Zambian villagers, and when we encountered someone on the path his instinct was to run up, stop just short of the moving bike, and bark. Then he got run over. Thankfully unhurt, he learned to fear bikes, and now barked at a distance of a foot or two. Another time I awoke to the strange sound of him frantically, relentlessly shaking his head. When I finally grudgingly opened my eyes I saw that his head was so swollen he could barely see out of his eyes. He looked grotesque. I, in a panic, opened capsules of Benadryl into his bloated mouth, and waited. Thankfully, within an hour or so, he was back to normal.

As he got older and more self-sufficient I learned to love him more. Winter approached, and he and I sat outside around a charcoal fire, under the stars with my neighbors. When it was bedtime, I'd stand up and thank my neighbors for dinner and Pablo and I would walk into the opaque darkness together, by the light of my headlamp. On really cold nights I'd pull him up into bed with me. With no electricity and therefore no heat, it would have been impossible to sleep otherwise.

The memories that really touch me are few, as they should be. I think of the few times that I tried to leave Pablo home, and spare him the pain of running all the way to a meeting in one of my villages. I'd lure him to my neighbors with a bit of tuna fish and ask them to hold him or keep him inside until my bike and I were out of sight. But he'd still find me. I'd have stopped for bananas or groundnuts in the small market on the way, and as I stood bargaining down the price, he would come trotting into the market square. Lighthearted and happy to have found me, as if to say, "Oh, you must have forgotten to bring me along, but its alright - I found you." It always broke my heart to wonder what he might have thought, if he imagined I'd abandoned him, and it endeared him to me like few other things could have. That innocent devotion.

We went for long walks together, and Pablo was an endless source of amusement as he pounced, cat-like, on anything that moved, including fallen leaves blown by the wind or tiny ants. When he got bigger and less easily intimidated, he tried to play with the goats we'd often happen across as we walked. He targeted the babies, as they were closer to his size, but the mamas wouldn't

• << previous page
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Memoirs: My beloved dogs?
We want to hear your view. Write now!