So here I am on a Friday morning in Bahrain. I've been up since 5am thanks to my four-legged brood needing toilet breaks, walks, playtime and breakfast.
It's Ramadan and we're in the thick of COVID-19 restrictions. All is quiet on the streets were I live, save for the birdsong that fills the air as the temperature rises and nature slowly wakes up surrying around to get things done before it is too hot to move.
A pair of eyes are staring at me - sometimes there are three pairs as he enlists his brother and sister in the stare-a-thon. The task is to will me to open the front door and take him for another walk. His eyes burn through the back of my computer screen; move a muscle from the keyboard, dare to momentarily look up and I am done for.
He knows my every movement, I don't know how; even when his eyes are closed and he's in a deep sleep snoring his head off! Some kind of sixth sense that after 15 years hones into my heart beat or breathing rate suggesting to him that I am thinking about moving. Not actually moving. Just thinking about it.
I am captive. Forced to stay in his line of sight otherwise I am summoned back with a plaintive bark. Mummy where are you? he asks, sounding so lost and confused that I am compelled to go and comfort him.
It's OK Baloo, I say. I'm right here. Don't worry. You're safe. We're here.
His brother and sister sometimes open an eye to see what's going on. But more often than not they sleep through the cycle that repeats and repeats and repeats throughout the day.
By day's end I am exhausted with more than 15,000 steps under my belt from the up-down, in-out routine that just goes on and on. Even in the garden I am summond.
Whoof where are you mummy? Whoooooof I can't find you! Whooooooooooof help me I am lost!
It's heartbreaking to hear him. Until a year or so ago he never barked except to tell me there was a cat or a dog near by. Just one alert bark.
Hey mum, did you see it? Can I chase it? Should we run for safety?
These days, as a senior dog who is unable to hear very well, has poor eyesight, a very doddery frame and a mind that is more out than in, he barks to tell me he needs something, just one bark with a completely different sound to all his previous barks; it's for me to figure out what he needs. Water? Toilet break? Play? Food? Or just comfort because he is momentarily afraid and alone?
Baloo, who has spent his life helping others to deal with an often scary and confusing world, now needs me to take away the scariness.
We have a lot of fun in between the up-down, in-out routine and there are daily flashes of his old self when he carries something for me or does his by now famous wiggle. Sometimes he thinks he's a puppy again and I have to run to keep up as he makes a beeline for some delicious smell on our little walks.
These days, in a world of his own, he scarcly notices the stray cats and is mostly oblivious to other dogs.
He loves his walks and lights up when someone he knows gives him a tickle with that familiar leg reflex twitch that only dogs can do. Music makes him want to dance with me just as he has always done. And, somehow, he always knows when the fridge door is open.
So the question is, can I move? It's been an hour since the last up-down session. Will he let me do something-else or am I captive here for the rest of the day?
I guess you'll find out if my ramblings continue ...
Whoof!
