Ohrid settled into my body slowly.
Cold lake water. Wet ground before sunrise. Reed beds moving in the dark before light fully reached them. Old bread and food remnants near the promenade. Cats under parked cars. Street dogs were everywhere, though usually smelled before seen.
Their scent stayed for hours on walls, grass edges, benches and tyres. Male. Female. Young. Ill. Confident. Frightened. In season. Injured. Passing through. Staying close. The town carried layers of dog information across the same routes every day.
I learned where dogs rested, where they watched from and which corners needed slower movement. Some barked before appearing. Some stayed silent and observed. Most preferred space and predictability over confrontation.
I was around one group of three street dogs many times a day. At first they barked at me when I walked past on my lead. Then they stopped after I walked by. Later I was let off my lead around them.
The three acted differently toward me.
One mouse-coloured lady was keen to sniff me. She was calm and it seemed safe to let her. There was a younger white dog who moved differently from the others. He looked wary of me and bounced toward me before running away, then doing it again and again. He seemed a little scary at first but we got along afterwards.
The third was another lady. Older. She let me sniff her but started growling and showing her teeth when I tried to lick her face. She snapped at me. I snapped back a little harder than she did, not hurting her. After that she stayed around but kept her distance from me.
Every morning when I went out for my first walk of the day, I tried to smell them. Sometimes the scent was strong and they would soon join me on my walk. Other times it was weaker because they were somewhere else.
At first we travelled beside one another rather than together. We moved regularly in the same direction. We shared stopping places and scent trails. Watching each other through movement rather than noise. Over time, our walks overlapped more often. The distance between us shortened naturally.
The street dogs recognised the arrangement. Not ownership. Not territory lost or gained. Just another temporary pattern inside the town’s moving dog geography. Some mornings we walked together along the promenade before the heat arrived. Other mornings they appeared silently behind us as though they had always been there. Sometimes they disappeared again for days.
Then movement began inside the travelling den. Cupboards shutting. Longer engine vibrations. Heat building earlier in the day. Different emotional smell from the humans before borders and roads.
Lake Shkoder smelled quieter than Ohrid. Grass tracks warmed quickly after sunrise. Mud near the water’s edge. Insects thick in the reeds. Frog scent close to still water after dark. Fewer dogs. Fewer overlapping scent trails. Fewer negotiations.
The walks became repetitive in a different way. Out along the same farm tracks. Grass seeds collecting in fur. Warm earth under paws by mid-morning. Little social information compared with Ohrid. Mostly bird scent, insects and livestock carried across open ground.
Sometimes there was access to the lake. Warm freshwater. Mud beneath the surface. Cooling the skin beneath the coat for a while before heat gathered again. The humans had started watching heat more carefully now. Walks earlier. Longer rest during midday. More water stops. Hands checking the temperature beneath my fur rather than just looking at me.
Then I could smell the sea.
Salt carried in moving air. Dry rock heating quickly after sunrise. Wind moving scent differently from the lakes. The beach smelled cleaner in some ways because the water and wind erased scent trails quickly. There were very few dogs here. Most stayed close to humans on shortened leads. Encounters were brief and managed early. Very little free movement between dogs compared with Ohrid.
Black fur warmed rapidly in direct sun. Sand stored heat underneath as well as above. Warm air sat inside the coat. The body slowed itself before exhaustion arrived. Seeking shade became automatic rather than deliberate.
The olive grove mattered. Cool earth beneath the trees. Shade moving slowly across the ground. Air easier to breathe there during the hottest part of the day. Muscles loosening again after the beach.
The crate changed too. Not confinement. Cooler air. Reduced light. Less movement around me. Predictable shade. During the hottest hours I often chose it before the humans asked.
Standing chest-deep in moving water cooled the skin beneath the coat. Wet fur and wind together removed heat more effectively than shade alone. Salt dried stiffly through the outer coat afterwards and increased thirst later in the day.
The humans watched carefully now. How quickly my breathing settled after exercise. Whether I chose movement or stillness. Whether I searched for cooler surfaces. How long I stayed in the shade before rejoining them. Whether my eyes remained bright and responsive. Whether I recovered normally after carrying sticks or swimming.
Morning became the time for distance and exploration. Midday became stillness, shade and reduced effort. Evening returned the beach to movement again once the sand released some of the day’s stored heat back into the air.
Different water. Different dogs. Different temperatures. Different rules. But always the same travelling den. The same humans. The same return to cool ground before sleep.