I’ve never been very fond of dogs. Not that I dislike them. I’ve just never cared that much. I don’t think I ever really wanted a dog as a kid. I did take care of my neighbour’s labrador in the afternoons when I was ten or so, took it for walks in the forest. And we had a crazy dog, Sixten, who kind of came with the house that we moved into in Tanzania, but he wasn’t really a pet. He lived in the garden and hadn’t been handled right as a puppy, so he was half wild, half craving so much love and attention that he wouldn’t let us sit on the verandah without barking and whining for us to open the verandah gate for him and let him in. Even though he had been running around in the monsoon mud and would leave red paw marks all over the white-and-black-checkered tile floor. Not really a representative first dog experience.
But after that, I haven’t really mixed much with dogs. I have an aunt who’s always had dogs, and so has an uncle of mine too. Kirke’s got Zorro and there are always loads of dogs running around in stables – but I’ve never really cared much. I’m not the kind who goes all crazy and gooey-eyed at the sight of dogs and babies. I’m more of a horse person. Horses are more independent, more careful, not as easily befriended. Maybe you could say, more like me – or then I just can’t handle the faithful and unquestioning love that dogs give away so freely. I don’t know.
But I must admit, something happened to me at Time Out Farms. With all those dogs, four of them, sometimes even six, I got used to having them around. The calmness of old Sally, the energy of little Maggie, the utter happiness of Remy and the dark, kind of hollow barks of Sierra. And the all-over-the-place Golden Retriever Georgie and skittish Jackson, Diane’s kids dogs that came to stay when their owners went away on holiday. It was total chaos with all those dogs around, but without realising it, I started to like always having someone to play or cuddle with. The fact that there was always someone who would appreciate you, even if it’s just because you scratch them in precisely the right spot behind their ear. Dogs are so generous and honest. If you are good to them, they love you. It’s as easy as that. Sometimes I wish other relationships could be as uncomplicated.
So now, a few weeks after leaving the farm, I still catch myself missing the dogs. I meet a dog in the street in Vancouver or on a trail in Ucluelet, and have to control myself to not just run up to it and start hugging it. You never know with stranger’s dogs, they might bite – but I just miss Diane’s dogs so. Totally unexpectedly.
But then again, who wouldn’t miss this little cutie pie, the poodle Remy. Maybe I’m not that strange, after all.
Katja Malmborg 