Cretan
dogs choose you: how very Chuck Norris
There
are a couple things on this island that Cretans will probably never run out of…
ever. To name just a few: olive oil,
orange juice, lamb, raki, tavernas, goat shit (seriously it is everywhere), bad
drivers, beautiful views, terrible roads, honey, and stray cats and dogs. I’d
like to focus on that last one for now because I’ve now got some personal
experience. Personal experience in the form of a stray dog we now know as Bob
Wiley.
But
before we jump into “What About Bob?” I’d first like to shed some light on a
very important topic (in an after-school special style, if you will):
There
is a very large stray cat/dog problem here and it will most likely stay this
way because there is no such thing as a pound/SPCA, nor any organization to
help and for some unknown reason they will not take the time to “fix” any of
the animals (Bob Barker would be in PSA heaven here). The Cretan idea of animal
population control equals a €5 box of poison and some raw meat. Sad, but
true. This is also one reason most of
the strays are scared of people. This is really the only thing I do not like
about living in Greece. There are as many cats as there are fleas and I have
seen dogs with and without homes that I would love to save.
Although
their practices are savage there are a few people that try to help as best they
can…and so we found out for ourselves back in late March.
And
here we go…
This
one day back in late March Kip asks if I saw the puppies at the end of our road
(So stupid. Do you even know me? I don’t notice anything) and I said no. But all I had to hear was the word “puppies”
and off I go in search of them. I was successful and brought the two, cute
little bag o’ bones back to the house. Not wanting to get too attached, I simply
referred to them as “the twins”. I decided to keep them with the intention of
taking them to the local vet and dropping them off-- like the vet is some sort
of safe haven. Had I known what the future held for me, I would have just put
them in a basket covered with a blanket on the vet’s doorstep, knocked on the door
and ran like hell. Instead, I took the twins to the vet and told them
that I’d found these orphans alone and blah, blah, blah. The vet people looked at me with a confused
look and basically told me that they were now my dogs/my responsibility. Huh?
No. I just found them and I was
trying to be nice and humane.
Apparently, the “finders keepers” policy is alive and well when it comes
to stray animals in Greece. So needless to say I was stuck with two, (2) month-old
girl puppies and a phone number of someone who may be able to help (read: no
help at all).
Now
fast forward a few weeks, Kip and I were heading home from a lovely day at the
beach when we see a man and dog walking near the entrance to our road. We pass by
them and go up the house. We pull into the driveway, get out, and, like a magic
trick, the damned dog from the road was right next to us!!
Enter:
Bob Wiley.
He
had a look that clearly said, “I am sooo glad I found you guys and I am so
gonna stay here forever and ever and ever.
Oh, and by the way… what’s for dinner?”
WTF?!!
Oh Heyll No!! No way is another dog going to stay here. This ain’t no rest home. So I led him down the road to where we first
saw him using some food as bait and I turned to walk back home.
He
actually beat me back to the house.
We
sprayed him with the hose; chased him with a broom. We did everything but kick
him and he kept coming back -- wagging tail and all. He pretty much told us he
was setting up shop with us. So within a matter of weeks, we went from having 1
dog, to an unruly and mix-matched brood of 4.
Shortly
after Bob showed up at our house, he managed to go next door and chew a
designer flip flop that ended up costing us 200€. That’s all I will say about
this, because quite frankly it was a bunch of bullshit and I am still bitter.
After this we’d had enough and decided we would play the Greeks’ game and just go
drop him off in a town a few miles away (about a 10 minute drive in the car).
At last our pack was dwindling and we were back to 3 dogs. We were at 3 dogs
for a total of 24 hours.
Bob
showed up the next night!
Seriously!!
These Greek dogs are smart and tenacious. I am pretty sure if that was Gibbs,
we would have never seen him again; he probably would have suffered a heart
attack after the first hour on his own and if a heart attack wouldn’t have
taken him surely starvation would have (my boy likes to eat). I told Kip
that Bob deserved a day of rest and a nice meal. So two days later we load him
back into the car and drive him further into the town, driving up and down some
streets to try and disorient him (much like spinning a blindfolded child before
trying to pin the tail on a donkey). We
wished him luck with his life and let him loose.
He
was back before Kip left for work in the morning (is this some sort of new
therapy?!).
I
thought to myself, “OK, Bob. You win this round.” Though he seemed a bit smug
about his boomerang-like abilities, so I was not as impressed. A little humility goes a long way. We fed him and picked another town in the
opposite direction that was even further away from our home and drove him there
that night. The date: May 10, 2012. Again, we wished him well and sent him on his
way.
And
all was quiet.
After
too many complaints and my broken heart, a week later I had to let the twins go
as well. Luckily, they were young and hadn’t developed their Greek GPS
abilities yet, but I hoped they were old enough to fend for themselves and I
still hope that they stick together and watch each other’s backs on the tough
and hungry streets of Crete (or have found another forever home). Finally, back to just one dog. Gibbs seemed confused about all the comings
and goings of these intruders, and while we we think he ultimately enjoyed
having some playmates, we’re sure he’s glad to have our full attention (food)
again.
So
now here we are on June 2, 2012. It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon here and Kip
and I have been lounging by the pool overlooking the beautiful bay and rocky
mountains and hillsides that surround our home. We’ve just finished our lunch
and we head back outside to resume our poolside lounging. Kip calls me over to
the side of the house to see something, and sure as shit there he is… BOB WILEY!!!!
He’s laying by the front door like he never effing left, and when the hell did
he even sneak up here? We were only inside long enough to eat a turkey sandwich!!
Thoughts about Bob’s journey flood my head and I start cracking up. All Kip can
do is shake his head and say “Can you believe this shit?” over and over again.
Then the real fun begins. We can only think of poor Bob Wiley, a canine version
of Bill Murray’s character in the quintessential comedy, “What About Bob?”
walking the streets of Crete with his mantra:
“I
feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful. I feel good, I feel great, I feel
wonderful.” All the while shouting, “DR. LEO MARVIN. Has anyone seen DR.LEO
MARVIN??” to all the other dogs. Probably around day 8 he started taking baby
steps. “Baby steps over the rock. Baby steps down the hill. Baby steps up the
hill. Baby steps until nighttime. Baby steps wake up. Baby steps over the rock.”
We
could go through the whole “What about Bob?” movie, replacing Bill Murray with
this mutt from Crete and Dr. Leo Marvin with Kip and me. So that’s what we
did. We reenacted the entire movie
poolside all afternoon… and yes it was awesome …and yes I’m still cracking up
about it!
I
can honestly only imagine what poor Bob went through to get back to us. As far
as I’m concerned, he has certainly earned the right to stay with us a little
longer (I’m guessing he’s realizing this as well). Hell, after the flip flop
incident we have basically paid for him already.
Depending
on how things go, I may just have to play a bunch of Neil Diamond songs and
then maybe he will decide to divorce us (“So, what
you're saying is that even though you are an almost-paralyzed, multiphobic
personality who is in a constant state of panic, your wife did not leave you,
you left her because she... liked Neil Diamond?”)… because at this point it seems he is only going to
leave on his terms.
UPDATE: June 7, 2012.
Bob has gone missing for the last two days. However, before he left, he brought his
girlfriend to our place. I feel like
we’re being duped. Bob’s babystepping it
back to town and telling all the other flea bags what suckers us Americans
living on top of the hill are. If he
comes back in a few days with yet another dog, I’m going to be convinced that
we’ve been set up!! Stay tuned.
