When humans describe a time as interesting, they usually mean it was a bit difficult. If that is the meaning, then February has certainly been interesting.
At the end of January, we arrived at a new garden and stayed there for the whole month. The humans called the place Albania. I came to think of it as the land of the roaming dogs.
Before this, in Greece, we had seen a few dogs who are homeless. They mostly kept their distance from us. Here it was different. The dogs were everywhere.
The first friend I made was our host’s dog, Lisa. She used to be homeless herself, but now she lives in the garden where we stayed. Lisa was gentle and calm. Each morning she would join us and lead the way on walks to the beach and into the village. When the sun became warm, she often came to lie beside me while we slept through the heat of the day.
I tried to play with her sometimes, but she did not seem to understand the game. That was alright. Sitting together quietly was enough.
Not all the dogs were like Lisa.
Some of them barked as soon as they saw me and showed their teeth. Two of them were particularly nasty and it upset me. The first time it happened I grabbed the lead from my human daddy’s hand and ran for a safe place. After that I became more careful when walking around the village.
I wasn’t frightened all the time, but I stayed alert. Once we reached places I knew were calm — especially the posh beach — I could relax again.
There was also a white dog who had just had a litter of puppies. She made it very clear that she did not want me anywhere near them. I understood straight away. I walked past her slowly and gave her as much space as I could.
In the end she never hurt me. She was not unkind at all — just a mother doing her job.
After a while I began to understand something.
The roaming dogs here are not all the same. Some are kind like Lisa. Some are frightened and shout first. Some are guarding their families. Some are simply trying to survive another day.
My humans talk about this sometimes and wonder how dogs end up living on the streets. Dogs don’t think about things that way. We mostly live in the moment.
But we do notice things.
When you meet another dog, you can usually tell quite quickly what they need. A stiff tail, a soft tail. A steady walk, a nervous one. A hard stare or a quick look away.
Most dogs tell you their intentions long before the barking starts.
So, February has taught me something useful.
When you meet a dog you don’t know, it is best to slow down, watch carefully, and give them the space to show you who they are.
Some want a friend.
Some want peace.
And some are simply asking you to pass by quietly.
In the Land of the Roaming Dogs, that seems to work rather well.
Scylla’s notebook: In Albania there are many dogs without homes. Most of them are simply trying to live their lives, just like me.
