Stumbled onto a domestic zoo (cont.): Blog in the time of Corona

                            

        

Last week I spent a good thousand words on three cats that have been serving as my housemates at my brother’s house. Beautiful, loving cats that I am unfortunately allergic to. These cats have been very entertaining, especially during Zoom meetings; I am starting to think these cats are interested in starting an academic career and are literally networking with my supervisors. But the cats are mere extras to this beautiful animal tale. There is only one leading lady. One hairy, lazy, silly leading lady. Leyla.

Leyla. She is a superstar. The cats are cute and all, but no one can take their eyes off Leyla. She is gorgeous and pairs this beauty with the best personality you could ask for in a dog. She is sweet to a fault. My three year old nephew would annoy her, his mother would tell him off and Leyla would bark at the mother for telling off her assaulter. She is sweet, not necessarily smart. Playing hard to get is certainly not her strong suit. She loves everyone she has ever met, she will lie on the floor and demand to be petted within seconds of meeting them. She once cornered a cat-lover friend of mine by the door and blocked any exit, leaving her no choice but to pet her endlessly. Not that that is a bad thing; I would pet Leyla for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.

If you have read about Leyla in another post, you would remember that she is very popular with pedestrians and car drivers alike. Cars stop to ask what breed she is. Cars behind those cars pop their head out to get a closer look. It seems no one is in a hurry lately. A woman jumped out of a café to take a picture. And I get it, Leyla looks like a bear, it’s a win-win situation; you get an exotic picture and don’t die. She looks so much like a lovely teddy bear that a little girl once followed us for a block shouting ‘Bear! Bear!’. She and Leyla spent a good five minutes lovingly petting one another. Leyla was taller than the girl. When I finally pulled Leyla away because it was starting to rain, the little girl burst into tears. I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t leave Leyla with her. I would then burst into tears. And I am harder to console. The other day I was stopped by an elderly lady who again wished to pet Leyla. She asked what her breed she was and then her name. I promptly replied and she said ‘Oh I know of Leyla, my grandson has told me about her’. It seems that Leyla is nothing short of a canine celebrity in my area, complete with paparazzi (café lady), groupies (four year old girl), a reputation (grandmother) and, thanks to my blog, tabloids dedicated to her life.

She is fantastic and sweet, as most dogs are. Seeing as dogs are also thought to be vigilant guards of the household, we have frequently wondered, what would Leyla do in case of danger? What if someone were to rob the house? Chances are she would once again roll over and ask the rubber gloved intruder to pet her. This would luckily be a good diversion; petting her is so rewarding, I don’t think there would be any time or desire left for a proper robbery. Breaking and entering and petting would be the crime. My brother suggests that Leyla would sense the danger, react and protect. I have, again, good reason to doubt this. In one of our night walks I got a nice little preview of Leyla’s vigilante’s side. There isn’t one. We were walking down the street when a tiny dog emerged and starting barking and scratching Leyla’s face. Its bark was embarrassing, Leyla could simply fart in his general direction (Monty Python-wise) and the dog would most likely fly to the opposite pavement. But Leyla just stood there, no paw, no bark, no fart for God’s sake! Just stood there being barked at and scratched by this figurine of a dog. I was embarrassed. I was pulling on her lease (the other dog walker was certainly enjoying the throw down) secretly hoping Leyla would come to her senses and dominate the encounter. It never happened. I have resorted to a different route to protect this oversized sheep from that stupid, furry gremlin. A few minutes later, a car backfired. Or fireworks went off. Or someone shot a tin can, we will never know. Leyla started running as fast as she could. Never looked back. I swear, if she could tear off her leash and leave me behind, she would have.

And with this post I pledge to cut down on rants about my mundane everyday life. But admittedly, it is mundane, but lovely. Days go by and I don’t even realise because they are full of these furry creatures that do not care about face masks, social distancing, second waves and antiseptics. Not that these aren’t fun conversation pieces, but cuddles are just so much better. This will also mark the last of my ‘Blog in the time of corona’ for the time being. It will return in the unlucky event of a  second wave, or hopefully, never.