They are in my care. I feed them once a day and walk them twice. I provide emotional security too, for their family is holidaying on other continents. This is why I am here. And they are too my living, breathing companions on this winter trip. Almost everything I do is in their company.
At the beginning I confused their names, and was embarrassed. I saw Chili as a King, as a Raja I suppose. Now I see that his warmth, like a mild chili pepper, reveals itself but slowly. Raja is more a prince than a king among dogs; a spiritual leader. This was my confusion.
Raja
Male
6 years old
Teddy bear gold with a Santa white chest
Burmese Mountain Dog?
Two, precise cat claw scars on snout
Chili
Male
7 years old
Mountain lion brown, sorry panda eyes
Rottweiler-lab cross?
Benign chest lumps. White snout smear
When I wake, they come to me, jolly pleased to be alive, and to share that, and so I say, ‘Morning boys, how did you sleep?’ Heads are patted. There’s some big shaking of warmth and satisfaction, some snorting and rubbing up against my leg.
Yes, it’s just the three of us here over the winter, on this remote corner of an Aegean island. I’m sure their morning greeting would be the same in any other circumstances, and company. They are dogs after all and this is a morning ritual. But I also know how important I am to them.
Of course, they immediately expect us to go for a walk. I am their pack leader, and there’s work to be done across the territory; boundaries to be maintained, sniffing of course, and urinating scent, but it’s the thrill of the patrol that excites beneath. It’s what dogs do in the morning. Almost everything around the walk, bar the eating, is a zen experience for a dog.
When I wake however, I am foremost a human being, with contemporary human needs. I would like some coffee. I’d like to do some scrolling over a few cigarettes, brush teeth, maybe pee, depending on the day. So Chili and Raja must wait. And with each short trip to the kitchen, bathroom or desk, even a shift of buttock in my chair, their attention is raised and the question, ‘are we going?’ again raised.
Suspicions are aroused when I don my socks, for at all other times I am barefoot. As I approach their collars and leads, the game is up.
Walk time is marked but a quick crescendo in dog energy. There is high excitement when the collars are to be attached. Chili cannot contain himself at this time. There are whines and budging and stretching with deep sighs and random movements of neck that mostly delay the departure. Raja though, that gorgeous zen master, stands just where I need him, pouring lovegold and precious gems from his baby seal eyes. (Raja. How you adore me. I am a God to you, Raja. You smell like my first teddy bear and I love you.)
And so, eventually we go. There are local cats to be fed. The energy shifts while I stumble through a craziness of hungry feral pleaders. They don’t give a fuck about me or the dogs. Give us food!, they whine, they moan, while they GET IN THE WAY. There’s a white one that hisses hate between miaows. ‘Devil Creature’, I mutter. Yes, cats are Satan’s spies.
The dogs are pleased when I retrieve them from this nonsense. I say, ‘Stupid Cats. What was all that about?’ I scatter a handful of cat biscuits. These are vacuumed up and off we go.
On the lead, Chili is a calm, noble companion. His gruff, street demeanour changes to something more patient and considered. Raja just pulls. I had to speak severely about this on the earlier walks, but now it is just a brief tug and a look. Then he is highly aware, because he is a hunter-killer and this conflicts with his very deep desire to please me.
On the shallow beach where the waves boulder in, I release my friends from the leash. Their work begins.
Recording events, marking territory, scanning for past intruders, noting who and when. Revolting articles of decaying matter can now be eaten, sheepishly. And of course a quiet poo atop a chosen shrub, eyes with guilty glances.
Some adjectives..
Chili
Gruff, sad, horny, masculine. Insecure attachment. Loyal, Big Brother, Mob Boss. Alpha, guardian, watchful, sensitive. Nightclub doorman. Middleweight boxer.
Dear Misunderstood Chilli. I wouldn’t mess with him in a dark alley.
Raja
Svelte, exotic, desert nymph. Love and tenderness. Arabian Beauty. Stone-Cold-Killer. Athlete, healer, fleet, secure, devotee. Zen teacher. Youth.
My sweet, emotional guide, Raja.
And some characteristics…
When Raja is at a fast trot, his front left paw flicks out to the side, like Charlie Chaplin, comic and endearing. With his head in my lap he makes light, lip smacking noises, like a toddler eating ice cream. Nothing could be more tender than this.
Chilli most wants someone to play with him. He likes rough games. He’s vocal and has a deep gruff voice that is a bit scary. Being Alpha dog he must be first to enter and exit a door or a gate. Except for me, but I let him go first sometimes.
Dog Commands (in brackets my clumsy pronunciations)
- Έλα (élla) is in regular use. It means ‘Come’
- έλα εδώ (élla d’oh) ‘Come here’. Serious uses only.
- Περιμένετε (Périmené) ‘Wait.’ Limited effectiveness with Chili.
- Φάω (Fai-i`) ‘Eat’ Dog ears prick at these phonemes.
- Πάμε (Pa`mé) ‘Let’s go / go on’ Raja takes this as permission to sprint wildly.
- Πάμε βόλτα (Pa`mé volta) ‘Let’s go for a walk’
- Όχι (O-hi) ‘No.’
- Μη (Mi!) ‘Do Not’ – eg attack that baby hedgehog
- Μπισκότο (Biscoto) ‘Biscuit’ I’ve been calling it Biskotaki?
In the early days they were confused without their family. I’d been with them for 10 days already but the departure of their loved ones was new. Raja looked to me immediately and was secure in both my company and the routine. Chili remained confused for a week or so. He ‘displayed’ regularly and was needy.
Needy of what, he knew not.
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