By Kabelo Mollo
This week my wife and I’s semi perfect suburban yuppie home was turned upside down by a new arrival. An arrival that is desperate for attention. Needs feeding twice a day and must be entertained so as to keep her from causing trouble.
This week our very cute, very naughty puppy Daisy arrived. She’s a handful. So much energy, so much vigour and when she isn’t whining for attention is actually quite a little adventurer, exploring the length and breadth of our barely existent garden. She’s been the shining light of yet another sorrowful week. We are going to need untold amounts of therapy post pandemic, because the PTSD will be unbearable, assuming we make it.
I’ve always loved dogs. I grew up in a house where there was more than one. When I was knee high to a grasshopper we had three dogs. One non descript “pavement special” called “Danger” naturally, one golden retriever named “Choice” and another Alsatian/Husky cross breed who was my dog and called “Socks”.
In fact, his full name was Socks Kabelo Mollo Mashae. Quite why the dogs name even included my peoples home village remains a mystery to me. They were great dogs, unfortunately Socks was poisoned by good for nothing miscreants who were clearly up to no good so he didn’t make too far passed puppy age, but Choice was a mainstay of my formative years.
He moved house with us from Happy Villa to Maseru West and was an ever faithful companion to a four-year old with a wildly active imagination. It is the stuff of lore and folktale in my family that I shared everything with that dog. My father’s favourite story is of me taking a bite of my sandwich and then offering Choice a bite. Unaware that table manners and sharing were a thing, the dog promptly snatched my whole sandwich out of my hand, devouring every last morsel.
Displeased by this eventuality I cried out to parents who found these unfolding events quite amusing. My mother always ends this story with a comment like “how stupid can one be”. I can only assume she means the dog, because why would I have shared anything with it after that?
Before my wife and I moved in together, I told her I’d always dreamed of a house with a pet dog. She herself isn’t overly keen on them, but was open to the idea, especially when I clarified that mine are and will always be outside dogs. I maintain those guys need the space outside offers. The kennel is a good place for warmth and dreams.
So, when the opportunity arose for us to snatch up a puppy, we grasped it with both arms. It was like swimming in to the great unknown. Every dog is different, so what if we got a really grumpy girl, or a really aggressive one? Or one that always ran outside whenever the gate was open?
All these questions lingering, but for the most part Daisy Dogg has been a pleasure to have. She eats like there’s no tomorrow and looks at her owners with such innocence it’s unbelievable. She sits on command sometimes and bounces around like a loon when she suspects her bowl is being taken so as to be filled with food. My new favourite thing is returning the bowl filled with just water and seeing her disappointed, almost dejected reaction. Is that animal cruelty?
Hopefully she’ll grow up to be a stocky, golden haired security officer with scant regard for dodgy characters. More than that though, I hope she’ll be an amazing companion for my children when we are eventually blessed with them. I hope they’ll have great adventures together. I hope she’ll be fiercely loyal but also playful. I hope she’ll follow my kids around everywhere we move, and be a constant in their formative tales. One thing I really and truly hope is that we get this potty training bit right sooner rather than later. It’s getting tiring running in to Daisy drops all over the place.
They’ve been called man’s best friend forever and a day for a reason. They really are a delight to have. That same wife who isn’t much of a dog person has been truly won over. Her and Daisy have become the best of friends. She was even able to see the lighter side when the dog forced itself in to the kitchen during its constant search for attention and playing partner. I can only imagine my wife admonishing my poor puppy in her graceful but shrill manner. I doubt Daisy will be making that mistake again.
The dog has been a welcome distraction. These times we are facing are undoubtedly the most challenging and unsure of any in recent history. One can’t but wonder if we’ll ever turn the proverbial corner and be out of this pandemic. I suppose until we are, we’ll have to find comfort in small victories like Daisy and other such things. Besides, it’s a dog’s life…
