Puppy Love

As many of you already know, I can’t stand the dogs here. The dog lovers of our group would say that I am unfair in this judgment, not because of my hatred (the reasons for which are apparent to anyone who spends more than five minutes in Cambodia) but because they feel the dogs are but a product of their treatment. And I’ll admit they have a pretty raw deal. They are kicked and beaten pretty regularly. However, in a case of the chicken before the egg, at this point it’s hard to say if they are mean because they are kicked or if they are kicked because they are mean. And of course there is always the factor of them carrying disease/fleas/etc. I certainly don’t want them near ME.

I have had three dogs, and they all suck for various reasons. The first one is the alpha “Ki”, and while he had a relatively friendly personality he is the one who invariably barks the most which cancels out any positives. Plus he’s been in a lot of fights recently and… well let’s say wounds don’t heal well here. The second one, “Kul”, is probably the most annoying overall since he is constantly crying like a baby when Ki beats him to food. He also recently developed cataracts. So now he’s half blind and crazed, which is just great. The final one, “Ko”, was pretty unremarkable and definitely at the bottom of the pack. He kind of disappeared, and I was happy. He was really sick, moaning with eyes rolling back in his head and other less pleasant symptoms…I say “disappeared” instead of “died” because my mom seems to insist that he’s not dead, he just went to “find a wife.” Over 4 months ago. Yeah yeah, Rover went to live on a farm, I get it.

Anyway, we were down to two and I could conceive of Ki dying of infection and Kul possibly going completely blind and not finding his way home. So things were looking up when much to my dismay my mom brought home two new puppies… My god. My brothers wanted me to name them. Intriguing! As my friend Chris so aptly put it “I want to find a name that my family could never figure out but that I can yell with relish at the dog as I grow to hate them and their incessant barking.” I toyed with various obscenities, but then one of my brothers was like “we should name the boy puppy Doo-Doo.”

Best. Name. Ever. What a genius, I couldn’t have hoped for better! I now foresee the complete atrophy of all the Khmer language skills since I basically spend most of my day yelling “Doo-Doo, come here! Doo-Doo, eat rice! Doo-Doo, stop sniffing your sister’s butt!” My little brother adds to the festivities by just chirping “doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!” at the puppies. The other one has a name too but it was decidedly less entertaining, and therefore not worth my time remembering.

The problem is now that they have names and are small and cute, I am becoming attached to them. I feel like a old, sad, lonely man brought back to the joys of life as they frolic over my feet. This is not good. One should not come to care for what might become one’s dinner someday.