Dora

My original plan for this entry was to give all of you a sort of daily log of my life (so far) in Ukraine. I was going to run down the basics, the hours I have spent learning the language, the people I had met, the makeup of my town. I was even planning on sharing an anecdote or two about my first day teaching (in Ukranian!) at the local school. But then I came home last night, and Dora had just given birth to puppies.

Dora, by the way, is Natalia’s dog. About a year old, 2 and a half feet long and probably forty or fifty pounds, she is no menace to be messed with. She is a cross breed of probably five different types of dogs, a mudblood of the highest order, and as enthusiastic and energetic as any living being I’ve ever met.

I never had any pets growing up. My family and I often discussed from time to time the plausibility of various animals. A Dog? Well, my mother would say, who exactly is going to walk it? A cat? My father hates cats. Fish? Why the hell would we buy fish? The end result was no result, a life spent relying on my friend Andrew, whose house often resembled a small Zoo, to fulfill my thirst for Pets.

Of course, this is just one of my many complaints about my childhood, the rest of which will one day be heard by a therapist whom I will direct to send my parents the bill. The truth is, I never really cared that much. But I was incredibly excited when I arrived in Ukraine, at Natalia’s, and found two dogs and a Cat waiting for me.

The Cat and I, whose name is Dana (pronounced Dah-Nah), have yet to see eye to eye. She is constantly eyeing me with suspicion, and I always feel as if she is aware of all my life’s transgressions. Beyond that, her toilet is my shower, and suffice it to say we have butted heads on that battleground on more than one occasion. Natalia often jokes that it is not really her place but rather “Doma V’Dana,” or Dana’s house.

The other dog is named Jack, whom I recently found out belongs to the hosue next door. Natalia, however, has taken on the task of feeding him, because his family often forgets. Jack has also clearly been abused in the past, a fact that is highlighted by his sincere fear of all men. Only recently has he started warming up to me. Until now, just hearing my presence would send him running for the hills.

Dora, however, is an entirely different story. From day one we began falling in love, albeit one of those really complicated and sometimes tumultuous love stories. The first 48 hours I was at the house, Dora barked and barked and barked. When I left to go to the bathroom, Dora barked. When I went to school, Dora barked. And when I came home, she bared her teeth and barked some more. After the first few days, however, her barking took on a different tone, and soon she was barking with her tongue wagging and licking and spitting all over me.

I really wanted her to like me, so I took to the habit of bringing out her food to her twice a day, in the mornings and in the evenings. Natalia works a lot of long days and nights, so often times I and I alone would be there for Dora, and she and she alone would be there for me. I would rub her belly and her her head and this special place behind her ears that really made her go wild. We were growing on each other. She felt like my very first pet.

Every day when I left and every day when I returned home Dora would be there waiting, at the door or at the fence, ready to jump me and, often times, impede my way. She would refuse to let me pass without a moment of playful banter, without latching on to my leg and knocking out a hump or two. Her favorite, however, seemed to be standing on her hind legs while I would grab her front legs with my own hands. We would stare at each other, and I would crouch to meet eye to eye. I would nuzzle her nose with my own and she would slobber all over my face.

Sometimes, of course, such antics could become a nuisance. Since the bathroom is outdoors, and most trips I took there I wasn’t exactly trying to conduct at a leisurely pace, playing with an overactive dog isn’t exactly top on my priority list. And after a long day of work and class, having a Dog stop you from getting out of your suit and kicking back with a nice cup of tea can start to get on your nerves. I remember one particularly bad day when Dora leaped on me while I was wearing my suit, forcing me to spend an hour cleaning out the spots by hand (no washing machine, remember?) To throw the icing on the sundae while impeding my way that day she led me to one of her “special spots” in the yard where she “did her business.” My shoes will be forever grateful.

Then there was the night she was barking just outside my window. Natalia wasn’t home, and I could not sleep with that dog yapping her chap. I emerge outside to find Dora with a small hedgehog in her teeth, attempting to tear through its hard, pointy exterior to get to that juicy meat inside. The hedgehog, of course, was alive, and I was more than a bit disturbed by Dora’s (eventually failed) attempts to have a just dessert. All the same, I fell in love with her. She began to feel partially mine.

Dora had been acting funny the last few days. Natalia was trying to tell me something, constantly pointing at her belly. I assumed it was a stomach ache. In retrospect, she was trying to tell me she was pregnant.

When I came home last night, there was no jumping dog to greet me. I meandered my way to her dog house, to find four or five jet black puppies suckling inside. I was beyond excitement! I called my friend Katelyn and she rushed over. Natalia was working until late, so I took it upon myself to camp outside the doghouse and watch newborns in action. I even started thinking about the names they would all receive, about which one I could take to truly be my own.

Natalia arrived home a little bit after ten that night. “Dora had puppies!” I exclaimed, showing off the newfound words I had looked up in the dictionary. She smiled.

“Ya Znayoo.” I know.

We went outside and she flashed a light inside the dog house. In there was Dora with her pups. We watched for a minute or so, and then went back inside.
“What will you do with them,” I asked. I was hoping she would suggest I take one. It would save me having to learn the Ukranian to ask.

She answered with a word I didnt know. “Ya ne Rozumiyoo.” I dont understand, I told her.

Natalia slowly raised her hands to her throat and make a choking motion. It suddenly dawned on me. Shes going to kill them.

For some reason the thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but as soon as she made the motion by American and childhood naivety was swept from my conscience. The town in which I am stationed is overrun with Dogs. Every day I pass at least ten strays on my walk to school, and most of them are replete with broken legs or bad eyes or some other disease that in America would have gotten them that final sleep long ago. But in Ukraine these dogs squeak by, relying on whatever scraps they can find.

I used to laugh at Bob Barker on The Price is Right, when he used to end every show by encouraging viewers to neuter their animals. Thats his cause, I thought? Thats to what he devotes this huge platform, this chance to change the world? But in Ukraine no one neuters their animal, a cost not worth bearing. There is a cheaper way to prevent the spread of dogs. The way Natalia was going to implement.

I think she could see the shock in my eyes. I ran to my dictionary for a few minutes and then came hustling back.

“Ya lyooblyoo Odin.” I want one.

“Ne, Jeremy.” I am sorry, but you cannot have one.

“Ya Mozna.” I am able. I can keep it and raise it and make it my own. I can save one of them. I can.

“Ni, Jeremy. Ne Mozna.” No, Jeremy. You can’t.

She was right, of course. I was in the middle of an already tumultuous period of my life. In two months I am moving to God knows where. I don’t know what my living conditions are going to be like and Im barely given enough money to buy my own food, let alone support a Dog. Beyond all that, I’ve never owned a pet. And I truthfully don’t have the slightest clue as to what goes into raising a Dog.

I went to my room for a bit, to think, to read, to stare at the ceiling throwing a blue racquetball up in the air. I came out.

“Kudee.” When. When are you going to do it?

“Zaftra. Urano Ranok.” Tomorrow. Very early.
“Ya lyoobloo eetee.” I want to come. I want to be there. I want to see it. I want to stop it. I want to do everything and i feel like I cant do anything.

“Ni.” No, Jeremy. You won’t come. She reached out and touched my shoulder, and then went to the kitchen to make me a cup of tea.

I woke up this morning at around 5 to Dora’s barking. I sat up in bed but didn’t leave. I didnt want to see it. I didn’t want to see any of it. I just sat up in bed for the next two hours, until Natalia had returned and gone back to sleep. I didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just listened to Dora barking, and then I listened to her silence.

I was afraid to leave the house this morning until I had to, but Mother Nature forced a trip to the outhouse. Dora was sitting in her doghouse, head hanging out the door, the look in her eyes enough to write a thousand ballads about loss and pain and love. I avoided her glance on the way thought, and I avoided it on the way back.

When I went to school a bit later, I again saw Dora in the same position. As I walked by a moan creeped out of her throat. I looked at her, I stared at her for a very long minute. I am sorry, I told her. I am sorry.

I’m not sure if there was a different ending to this story, if I should have insisted on keeping a puppy or if I should have gone with Natalia or if I should forget the whole event and throw it out with the rest of life’s painful memories. People often talk about their welcome to the Peace Corps moment. This may have been mine. There are so many things I take for granted beyond indoor bathrooms and microwaves. There is a safety and security involved in our lives that we can’t even begin to imagine until it is taken away, a million luxuries that we forget to count.

I will go home soon, back to Natalia’s, back to Doras, and I am sad. Because I know there will be no happy, excited, energetic dog blocking my way, a pack of pups in tow.