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| 'Need my help?' |
For a bunch of reasons I’m under a fair amount of stress
these days, 8,000 miles away from my husband, my dogs, and my “real” life in California, so it’s not surprising
that one side effect might be nightmares during which I scream out loud.
What did surprise me, though, last night, was that my
recently rescued, now foster pooch Agapi, whose care and uncertain future are two of the chief reasons for my stress, and for whom existence itself was more or
less a living nightmare until a couple of months ago, and who is still frightened
of many if not most things—it was a giant surprise that this dog gulped down all
his own fears to come to my rescue.
When I say fears, here’s an example. After leaving his harsh
life on the streets of one Greek village to come live with me in a different
Greek village, Agapi needed hours of just hanging around near the car, with me
liberally doling out cookies and belting out show tunes like “Oh, What a
Beautiful Mornin'” (you’d think the torment of hearing my singing voice would have motivated him
to comply sooner) before finally overcoming his trembling terror enough
yesterday to jump into the backseat. Of course he just wanted to jump right
back out again, but still, quite a milestone.
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| 'Is this car thing absolutely necessary?' |
My nightmare was silly. I think it involved wild, voracious
rats swarming the kitchen, which thank all the house restoration gods is one
thing that has not yet happened at our decrepit old place here on the island of Kefalonia. (I love rats but if they’re
going to be in the kitchen would prefer them to be domesticated, well-fed, and
in smaller numbers.)
Silly though the nightmare may have been, my reaction to
it was rather serious, with a lot of hollering at the top of my lungs.
Logically, you’d expect many animals, especially severely
traumatized ones, to run the other way. But while waking from the bad dream, I
heard commotion and clatter, and opened my eyes to find someone standing over
me. A large, furry, and worried someone.
My shrieks had apparently inspired Agapi to fly off his bed
a few feet away from the sofa where I’ve been sleeping lately, and leap with
all fours up onto the coffee table next to me. The living room is a mess and
there was too much junk around for him to quickly find a floor route, so he had
taken that shortcut to get to my side as fast as he could.
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| Scene of a rescue |
Through the dim dawn light I saw him above me blinking in surprise,
but with every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action.
Those eyes seemed to be asking, “Hey, what happened? Need help? Is there somebody I should bite?”
He looked even more puzzled when I laughed, sat up, and
hugged him. “My hero!” I cooed over and over.
In the confusion, one of his hind paws slipped off the
coffee table, so I had to reach out and stabilize it to keep him from falling.
He took advantage of the situation to wash my neck and an
ear, something dogs tend to do when they want to reassure themselves and their
pack mates.
That’s what this animal rescue thing is about, I realized.
It’s not just me rescuing and reassuring him all the time. We’re taking turns.
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| 'Do you think you can pipe down with the nightmares now so I can get some shut-eye?' |
More on why I'm in Greece:
More on Agapi:
A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?
Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma
Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma
Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.
To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).
ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted
COPYRIGHT 2012
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