Every time I pick up a new issue of the Bali Advertiser, I turn first to the Pet Parade section. It’s not that I need any more animals, heaven knows. But I can’t help looking. It always makes me wince to read about animals that are being left behind because their people are returning to their own countries. I imagine the distress of separation and trying to find the perfect home for a beloved pet.
And now I find myself in this same position, trying to find a new home and people for Daisy the Dachshund, who’s been part of my family for seven years. It wasn’t my decision. Two of my dogs, who are both such sweet creatures on their own, have irreconcilable differences. It’s sad but clear that one of them will have to leave the family .
Daisy bounced into the garden seven years ago as a puppy and immediately offended Kalypso, the dignified matriarch of the pack, by barking at her and chasing her off the porch. Kalypso responded by knocking her over. Daisy nipped her. Kalypso nipped her back. I thought they would sort it out, but as time went by it became clear that Kalypso was building a St Bernard-sized grudge against the newcomer. Daisy was cute and engaging; everyone made a fuss of her. Still ignorant of canine psychology, I compounded the situation by paying more attention to the puppy than the matriarch. Big mistake.
For months, all would be well. Then something –- a chicken chase, an argument about a morsel dropped from the parrot cage –- would set it off. Kalypso would snap at Daisy, establishing her prerogative of Boss Dog. Instead of respecting the hierarchy, Daisy would snap back. Furious at this insolence, Kalypso would discipline the smaller dog with increasingly serious bites. And Daisy would not roll over…she bit back.
So one minute I’d be peaceably typing away or working in the garden with the dogs dozing nearby, and the next I’d be wading into a screaming dog fight. It was emotionally exhausting. Twice my staff took Kalypso home to their compound because my house sitters were traumatized by the bloodshed. It was all a long way from the quiet life I aspired to.
As the dogs got older, they got grumpier with each other. At my wit’s end, I called in the Dog Whisperer. Angie, a pragmatic German, took two days to re-establish the canine hierarchy at my house. I was Mega Alpha Top Dog, followed by Kalypso, then Hamish. Daisy was at the very bottom of the social totem pole, where she least expected to find herself. The instructions were strict. From now on, I was to make a big fuss of Kalypso. She would greet me first, eat first, sleep by my bed. Daisy was not to be picked up, praised or allowed to be physically higher than Boss Dog. She would sleep alone, in the office.
Everyone accepted this surprisingly well; dogs are hierarchical by nature. For almost a year Daisy showed Kalypso the respect she was due, tiptoeing past her with rolling eyes and tail at half-mast. Then some unseen trigger set if all off again about three o’clock one morning, when I was torn out of sleep by a screaming and bloody dog fight under my bed.
“Can’t you learn to get along?” I pleaded after I had separated them and washed a deep bite on Daisy’s face.
“I hate her,” growled Kalypso.
“She’s a bitch,” Daisy snarled.
After so many years, it seemed that no amount of counselling and intervention was going to overcome their mutual dislike. Suddenly the garden wasn’t big enough for both of them. Sadly, I banished Kalypso next door in the care of a dear and long-suffering friend while I came to terms with the re-homing of Daisy.
It was the end of an era. Daisy’s big personality had won many hearts and mine was first among them. She was on the cover of my book and featured in several stories inside. She had modelled for the life-like wooden Dachshund mask that was sold for years on the Novica website. When I toyed with the concept of dog jewellery for rich poodles, she sat regally through a two-hour photo shoot, resplendent in a pink pearl necklace.
Daisy has more lives than six cats. In her youth she survived two falls into the pond, the bite of a green pit viper, numerous heroic leaps off the ironing board, encounters with metre-long monitor lizards and a tumble into the deep septic tank hole (mercifully before its inauguration). Now that she is mature and more restrained, she confines her activities to ratting and chasing the full-sized Doberman down the lane on the rare occasion she escapes the confines of the garden.
She likes to be comfortable. I’ve seen her pull a cushion off a chair onto the floor to curl up on. If I leave the door of the linen cupboard open, she’ll climb onto the towels on the bottom shelf and go to sleep. Completely fearless when faced by large reptiles and other wildlife, she retires to her special nest under the bathroom sink at the first sound of thunder.
So now Daisy is looking for someone else to love and understand her, to be entertained and guarded by her. If you spend most of your time in Bali, have a safe fenced garden and a Dachshund-shaped vacancy on your patio and beside your bed, please contact me at bali_cat7@yahoo.com
Dragons in the Bath, a collection of Ibu Kat’s stories, is available in Bali from Dijon in Kuta, Ganesha Books at Biku in Seminyak and Ganesaha Books and selected shops in Ubud. It can be ordered nationally and internationally through www.dragonsinthebath.com <http://www.dragonsinthebath.com>
