It is 7 o’clock on my Friday evening, and I am pausing to tell you about the time I was schooled in how to take care of my dog, who is now currently sitting in my lap shivering, wrapped up in my panya (a two meter piece of fabric).
First let me just say I know how to take care of a dog. Or at least I think I do. I grew up with no fewer than three dogs in my house at one time, so you’d think I’d have a clue.
I have had my dog since he was born more or less. My neighbor has a dog and she was pregnant when I got here. In October she had six puppies. Beaugard (that’s my dog) was the first one I held. I claimed him as mine early on. He was one of the best looking ones and he wasn’t a female—I don’t want little Beaugards running around.
I started trying to potty train him early on; yelling NO a lot at him when he tried to pee everywhere. I learned to take him out immediately after he woke up and show him designated urinating and poo-ing areas, which are actually the same places where some humans can be found defecating on market day—yay! Since this process has begun he has peed and poo-ed in the house only once. Once he did pee on me in my bed, but that was my own fault—he’d been crying to get down more or less for an hour and I was too tired to get up.
My friend Ashley called me recently and she laughed at me. I told her having this puppy was like having a baby, and I was certainly going to be thinking extra hard when I decided I wanted to have a kid.
When he was a month or so old I tried to have him sleep in my house with me. He cried so much and I grew impatient. I put him back with the other puppies and resumed my restful sleep. A week later though I tried again, and now he sleeps most of the night nestled under my armpit sleeping. And on most days he continues to sleep until I make him get up so I can go to school.
The other day my sister told the boutique owner my dog sleeps with me in my bed. The guy shook his head and said that was no good. He also said naming my dog handsome guardian was also no good—he’s just a dog after all.
Dogs here, well they roam freely. I was convinced that it was built into Beaugard’s genes this need to sortir (to go out). When he was still very little though we had a series of dog nappings, and so I resorted to keeping him on a leash all the time, and walked him twice a day so he’d get his exercise. Then my Maman returned from being away for two weeks and told me to let him run free. He is too big to be tied up she said.
So for a week or so I allowed little Beaugard to roam free, but I began to worry. First of all, he took it upon himself to become friends with the meat vendors near my house, who frequently hit dogs. Secondly, one day he decided he wanted to try and follow me to school. I remember turning back every few seconds, seeing his little ears flapping in the wind, and he was running with all his heart. He made it half way before a little girl started chasing him and he went back home. A couple weeks later though, a little bigger, he attempted to follow me again, this time he was met with success. There is no tricking him either, he knows when I am leaving and will come out of no where to join me. So now I keep him tied out on my porch while I am at school. He cries so much when I leave, it breaks my heart.
Meanwhile my mother has been getting a chronicle of Beaugard’s life and urging me to keep him tied up more. I know this, but I also know the Beninese way with dogs, and how nuts they think I am with him already.
So today he has been tied up most of the day, like most days this week, but he keeps crying. Maybe he needs to go the bathroom, so I let him out. Of course when I do this, this is when the vet arrives, and I have to spend five minutes asking everyone where Beaugard went.
After capturing Beaugard, the vet looks over him, and hands him to me. You must wash him twice a week; he is too dirty. Also he can’t be running around like this. I say to him about how I know this, but everyone always tells me to let him run free. He shakes his head, and I know we both get that these people know very little about decent pet care. He doesn’t let this be an excuse. I feel so embarrassed.
After he left I promptly took Beaugard into my showering area and gave him a bath. He now smells like Chamomile and refuses to leave the warmth of my lap. I guess he is going to have to learn to be an American living in a Beninese world, just like me.
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