A dog's life

So yesterday I went for the first report, feeling very much like the proud 'parent'. Excepting this wasn't my daughter and this wasn't high school. This was the dog kennel. Yes, we had sent Nico to training school.

My neighbour usually tells me that Nico, my dog, exhibits the same behaviour patterns as his owner. As we are always arguing about everything, I thought he was trying in his usual style to wind me up yet again. After all, I am not prone to chasing cars, my own tail or other people's tails for that matter. I don't hump legs and not being privy to my bathroom habits, he certainly couldn't be making a comparison on that level! The decision to send Nico to 'school' didn't come lightly. It rebelled against all my ' this-is-just-a-dog instincts'. However, lately he had become a handful. There was:

- the extra 10 mins delay in the mornings because he thinks he should be heading off to school and or work; getting him out of the car and into the house had become a game of wit, strategy and timing.
- the chasing of people on the road - most Ghanaians are afraid of dogs even of one as little as Nico! Wished I had had a hidden video cam that would have allowed me to take pictures of the security guard running from him! Of course that doesn't leave me with much hope for security in the estate!
- the constant running away to 'visit' his brother that lives down the road. One evening Bash and I came home and there was no sign of Nico at all. Of course we were worried! Visions of kidnapped dogs, a fatal accident or worse still a new addition to a local 'chop bar' menu readily leapt to mind. A couple mins later our door bell rang. There was Nico looking as happy as usual and happy we were home. For the record, no he didn't ring the bell. Belive it or not he had gone all the way down the road to where his brother (pup from the same litter) lives. He sat out by the gate and barked until some one opened it to see what the rukus was about and then he decided to stay.

He just wouldn't listen.

The day we dropped him off at the kennel was a drama and a half. Firstly the handlers weren't sure what he was - a real dog, or a stuffed one. The usual Ghanaian exclamations of surprise - eeeh! - were constantly repeated in a torrent of Twi that I couldn't make heads or tails of. The laughter though was the most worrying sign. Then there was the case of the other 'students' - even the puppies in that place were bigger than Nico! How could I leave him ? Anyway, steeled my nerves, closed my ears to his plaintive crying and walked away. Memories of my first day at boarding school came to mind. Hmmm.

Then mid-week I got a call - Nico was on a hunger strike. He refused to eat! Furthermore, he protested against staying in his cage, making it clear he wanted to hang-out with the trainers instead. My poor dog! So yesterday we went for our first visit. To say he was excited to see us would be an understatement. Then the trainer tried to show us what he had learnt - of course Nico did everything he shouldn't. So here was this man trying to console us by saying ' some dogs weren't like other dogs'! A polite way for saying my dog is stupid? Hmm, I wonder. Anyway, three weeks left to go. Will of course provide an update later.

Our first day at the vet

Coming from Jamaica where a ‘dwag is a dwag’ – both the four and two legged variety - yesterday’s experiences of getting Nico his vaccination was an eye opening experience to say the least.
Living in the countryside in Jamaica, dogs basically took care of themselves. You potty trained them to ‘go’ elsewhere and not in your yard, you fed them and that was pretty much it. You certainly didn’t buy them. After the breeding season all the neighbours had more dogs than they could possible want and puppies were a thing you got - pretty similar to the proverbial cup of sugar over the kitchen fence - all done in good neighbourly grace and not expected to be returned.

As a child growing up, we had several dogs all named after the current ‘don man’ or ‘bad cop’ of the day – Rambo and Trinity I remember clearly. As these were expected to be guard dogs, all one could hope for is that they would indeed assimilate the personalities and reputations of these local celebrities. There was no way I could have gone to school talking about my dog named 'Nico' – would have been laughed right out of town.

Anyway, yesterday we decided that we were going to be good pet owners – or maybe I should use the politically correct term human pet companions - and we were going to take Nico to the vet to get his check-up and his shots. First we had to register him – where by he then got an identity card. Yes. My dog is now an entity recognisable by his identify card and his health record and vaccination certificate! His vaccine card has the space for his name – question to self, do dogs have a surname - date of birth, sex, breed, markings, owners name, address and telephone number. There is even space for a passport sized picture and a nose print. Hmm, will have to see which photographers would be willing to do a passport picture o my dog - NOT!

We then had to wait our turn behind the other ‘patients’. It was a bit harrowing to listen to the ‘crying’ of the other dogs when they got their vaccinations and Ashes tried her best to cover Nico’s ears. A cross between a fox terrier and a poodle, Nico definitely was not the biggest dog there. Watching the parade of large muzzled, muscle rippling, fearsome looking dogs I wondered if we should have gotten a more ‘manly dog’. Those things looked like they could have had Nico for a pre-lunch snack.

Finally, it was our turn to go in Consulting Room 1. The green-smocked vet assistance asked us a couple of questions and then took his temperature - a thermometer in the butt - and advised us that the normal temperature should be between 38 and 39 degrees. As if to say I was going to be taking it! They then checked his eyes for mucus and pretty much gave him a general once over. Then came the vaccinations for distemper, hepatitis, letospirosis, parovirus, rabies and kennel cough – yes, the stickers are in his vaccination booklet as proof.

At the risk of shattering my no-nonsense, practical level headed act, must confess that I felt a wee bit emotional at the thought of him being stuck by a needle. He cried so much! Some de-worming syrup, lots of TLC from Ashes and the ordeal was finally over.

So we go back again in two weeks for booster shots and follow up treatment. Sounds strangely parallel to humans doesn’t it? Made me also wonder how many people living in developing countries have had their own vaccines or even something as simple as an identify card. Felt a bit of a tug of conscience as well – while it wasn’t a lot of money for all mentioned above – about the equivalent of what I would spend on lunch for two days - why couldn’t I or shouldn’t I be giving towards some recognised charity that can actually help real people get access to some of these facilities too. It is morally wrong? And are my good intentions misplaced? Am sure the issue will be turning over in my mind for the next couple of weeks.

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