Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 1)

[Reading my past work usually makes me cringe, especially if they - like this piece - were written while I was still a wee writing student in university. But 'Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears' are special to me for several reasons and that is why I have kept it till this day.

One: My fellow students laughed when I read this out loud, as we all had to do with our work, and it was maybe the first time I realised I could be funny. Two: The class clapped when I finished, the first (but not the only) time that semester, and it was maybe the first time I realised I could be good. Three: The tutor was an absolute sweetheart who I was fortunate enough to have for two subjects and who, when I once emailed him to say something had come up and I would be unable to present in class one particular Monday, replied with: "Have a good ski trip."

He was right. I was cutting class for a ski weekend, but I never told him so. I recently dug this up again for another read, cringed (of course!) and decided, against my every instinct and better judgment, to share it. Because it holds fond memories. Because every now and then, I miss university. Because I feel like it. So please, um, bear with me.]

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There’s a photograph of a dog in my bedroom. It’s got soft beautiful snow-white hair and it’s lying on its front paws looking into the camera with the most gorgeous brown eyes. The tip of its black button of a nose is shiny and you can see its reflection on the wooden parquet it’s lying on. It’s a picture of my cousin’s dog that I’d taken last summer, and though I wouldn’t say I’m a dog lover by any means, even I have had to admit that Disney was extremely adorable.

“It’s a Maltese with some Shitzu blood mixed in it,” ten-year-old Jessica had informed me importantly, proud that she could deliver such information.

I was suitably impressed. To my untrained eye and brain, there are only three kinds of dogs, cute dogs, not-so-cute dogs and killer dogs such as Rottweilers and Alsatians.

Not surprisingly, the first category is my favourite. Cute dogs warrant much love and attention – only if I felt like it of course – and nothing else. Definitely no grooming, no cleaning up after and besides forbidden treats, no feeding. The second category I could put up with, as long as they didn’t attempt to chew my belongings or my person. Sometimes if I was feeling extra-friendly, I would even pet them, though there have also been times where I’ve had to enthusiastically pet a dog and exclaim how beautiful it was because a very proud and defensive owner was breathing over my shoulder. The third category I stayed away from as far as possible. If I could get a restraining order against them, I would.

My sister could never understand my apparent lack of love towards dogs, or animals for that matter. She still can’t, but at least she’s come to accept it. She’s the Doctor Dolittle of our family, extended family members included. When she was ten, she cried for two days because our neighbour’s dog fell ill and had to be put to sleep, after which she spent six months holding a grudge against the vet who treated it with all her little heart.

When she was twelve she decided she wanted pet turtles and got my mother to buy her two in the name of “learning to be more responsible”. I have to say it worked because for months after that she diligently cleaned out their cage regularly and fed them, until one day she decided she was tired of them. She gave them to a friend of mine who promptly lost one of them in his garden and accidentally ran over the other one with his car.

(To be continued)

Related posts:

• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 4)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 3)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 2)
• I’m getting nostalgic just coming up with the title
• Making “me” time