It has already been eighteen days since the departure of my dog, Burrito, but it seems like only a few days back when he first left.
I decided to take some time before writing this entry, mainly so that I wouldn’t be too emotional or anything like that. I wanted to take some time to appreciate the time I had with my African dog and to do his short life justice.
I’ve never had a dog before. Actually, I used to be deathly afraid of dogs ever since going over to my brother’s friend’s house (who had a younger brother in my year as well) whose dog chased after me. Of course, I didn’t realize that dogs will run after you if you run away, thinking that you are playing with them, so he ended up accidently clawing my ankle. It took me awhile to see that dogs aren’t all that scary and that they enjoy playing, licking, and being a good companion.
Anyway, Burrito randomly ended up being a great companion. A dog that I didn’t have to care for too much (after his first six months), loved meeting new people, and one of the smartest dogs I’ve seen in country. He was incredibly docile, which is sort of odd for a lot of the Beninese raised dogs and loved being like his owner, lazy during the sunny parts of the day. I think one day I kept track of how much he slept and he clocked in around seventeen hours. Of course, I know some people back at home who could also accomplish such a task, but Burrito consistently slept a lot (especially during the hot season).
One of the things I will miss most about not having Burrito around is hearing the *pitter patter* of his paws hitting the ground behind me when I leave the concession. I may not know where he is at all times, but every morning/afternoon when I would head out he would somehow hear me leaving and would run after me. Sometimes he would accompany me to school for English Club, provide me with encouragement at some village’s accounting session, or even run after me to Azove. Of course, if he did make it to Azove he would get lazy on the way back (or tired I suppose, I do tend to bike as fast as I can) so I would have to throw him into my side bag on my bike.
Thanks for keeping me entertained and for being a good sport whenever someone said, “Scratch your face,” in a deep voice. You were a good dog.
P.S. In case you were wondering how he died I don’t know what to tell you. I think he may have eaten something with poison or maybe he got insane worms. Either way, he showed up one morning and whined/howled. By the time I got back from a meeting, he was gone. My neighbor and I wrapped him up in one of my old shirts, dug a hole in the front yard, and said a few words about him. I’m glad he came back home to give me closure.
I decided to take some time before writing this entry, mainly so that I wouldn’t be too emotional or anything like that. I wanted to take some time to appreciate the time I had with my African dog and to do his short life justice.
I’ve never had a dog before. Actually, I used to be deathly afraid of dogs ever since going over to my brother’s friend’s house (who had a younger brother in my year as well) whose dog chased after me. Of course, I didn’t realize that dogs will run after you if you run away, thinking that you are playing with them, so he ended up accidently clawing my ankle. It took me awhile to see that dogs aren’t all that scary and that they enjoy playing, licking, and being a good companion.
Anyway, Burrito randomly ended up being a great companion. A dog that I didn’t have to care for too much (after his first six months), loved meeting new people, and one of the smartest dogs I’ve seen in country. He was incredibly docile, which is sort of odd for a lot of the Beninese raised dogs and loved being like his owner, lazy during the sunny parts of the day. I think one day I kept track of how much he slept and he clocked in around seventeen hours. Of course, I know some people back at home who could also accomplish such a task, but Burrito consistently slept a lot (especially during the hot season).
One of the things I will miss most about not having Burrito around is hearing the *pitter patter* of his paws hitting the ground behind me when I leave the concession. I may not know where he is at all times, but every morning/afternoon when I would head out he would somehow hear me leaving and would run after me. Sometimes he would accompany me to school for English Club, provide me with encouragement at some village’s accounting session, or even run after me to Azove. Of course, if he did make it to Azove he would get lazy on the way back (or tired I suppose, I do tend to bike as fast as I can) so I would have to throw him into my side bag on my bike.
Thanks for keeping me entertained and for being a good sport whenever someone said, “Scratch your face,” in a deep voice. You were a good dog.
P.S. In case you were wondering how he died I don’t know what to tell you. I think he may have eaten something with poison or maybe he got insane worms. Either way, he showed up one morning and whined/howled. By the time I got back from a meeting, he was gone. My neighbor and I wrapped him up in one of my old shirts, dug a hole in the front yard, and said a few words about him. I’m glad he came back home to give me closure.
1 comments:
I am so sorry to hear about Burrito, but he did have a much better life than most animals over there and you are right to be grateful for the time you had together. I read one of your other posts despite your warning about the other dog and was worried that somehow something similar had happened to Burrito. So sweet of him to come home to you in the end. He was a good dog.
Judy, Carly's mom
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