Domestic Safari

My parents in the States own an exuberant number of animals. In recent years the joke is they run their own domestic safari in Southern Maryland. In Benin, I don’t find my circumstances much changed, and because of that I find comfort.

In the concession next to mine is the lady who owns my house. She generously feeds me, and she, from what I can tell, is highly respected in the community. In addition to care for her children, other people’s children, and myself, she has taken on her own domestic safari.

Puppies

I was delighted on my first night to discover to puppies. One is golden with white, and the other is black and white—the standard set of colors found among the dogs here in Materi. The puppies are brother and sister. The gold one, the sister, is fat, curious, and alpha-like. The black one, the brother, is slimmer, gentle, and slightly whiney at the same time. When they get in trouble they yelp very loudly, as if a serious offense were being committed against them. Of course, they bounce back quickly and are off doing the next thing to get them in trouble—chasing the chickens, pooping near the chairs, chewing on a flip-flop. They are not very unlike most puppies.

After a week here, I was told they did not have names, and was then given the honor to name them. Although my parents have had and have many animals, I have named very few—my brothers always insisted I was horrible at naming pets. Naming the two puppies here gave me much joy. While I thought I might have to belabor the task, their names came quite quickly. Izzy, and Bennie (like Bennie and the Jets).

The beauty in having these two puppies is that they are not mine, but I can play with them as much as I want. I gave them a bath last Sunday, and have set about removing the ticks that gravitate towards them. At night when they are sleepy I put them in my lap—Bennie particularly enjoys this.

Soon there will be more puppies. There is a third dog that is expecting in November or December. She does not particularly like Bennie and Izzy, because most of the time they try to nurse from her. This dog is beautiful. It’s fur is a little longer than most Beninese dogs (all of which are short hairs), and it has yellow-like eyes. It constantly has a grin on its face. Like Bennie it has a tranquil disposition, but like Izzy, can be assertive. She reminds me a little of many of the dogs I have had since a child. Her grin reminds me of my parents black lab, Jasper—who always looks like she is about to burst out of excitement. She also reminds me of Ace, because if my food is out she tries to use it as an excuse for me to pet her. As a mother, she reminds me of the only mother dog I have ever really known, Willow—Ace’s mother.

I think the family knows I love the dogs—anytime I ask where they are, the mom tells the daughters to bring the puppies to me. When no one wants the dog around, she knows she can come to me, and I will pet her.

Cats and Kitten

On the second day, out of no where, appeared a rather small kitten. Cats are considered great pets here, because they catch bugs and rodents—I have not seen any rodents thus far, which is probably a tribute to the cats. This purpose is not uncommon for cats, although at my parents house, the cats were more likely to stare in wonderment at creatures, rather than kill them. The kitten meows a lot. A few days into Post, I noticed it was no longer around. I asked about its whereabouts, and a small search was put into play, with no results. No one seemed to concerned. The next evening, a boy appeared with the kitten. It had wondered off a long ways off. It now is tied up all the time, and meows as a result. I have to occasionally rescue it from the puppies. Yesterday I was given the honor of naming it. I named it Baby. It cries a lot, plus "No one puts Baby in the corner," no one.

There are two adult cats, the one like my cat back home, and another one whose meowing distinctly reminds me of my parents cat, Queenie. Queenie on most accounts has been considered a strange cat. My dad has this rather entertaining impression of her meow. She always blinks really slow and then meows long and high pitch. You have no idea why she is really meowing, and it is hard to get her to stop.

Toads

The electricity in my village comes on around 6 p.m. and stays on until a little after midnight. The insects flock to the lights in these limited hours. I noticed a few days ago another sensation also brought on by the electricity. Toads. The toads gather in troves around the light, looking to eat the insects. Bennie and Izzy find them curious, and follow them timidly from time to time, until they quickly lose interest.

Chickens and other feathered creatures

Chickens wandering is nothing new for me. They roamed rather freely in Porto-Novo. Sometimes I don’t know why I set an alarm, as the rooster delivers the news of dawn without fail. There are also guineas running around, and two days ago I noticed they made their way onto the roof. Occasionally one can hear what sounds like rain or rocks being thrown on the roof, but I now know it is just the birds.