Let Me Live Here, You Will

I had an interesting couple of weeks. I was sitting in my living room, minding my own business and reading a book, when my nieghbor called my name. "Megan, come out here and look at this." I didn't know what he wanted, but figured I'd go take a look. I go out behind my house, and there at my back door is a 4 to 6 week old puppy, skeletal from lack of food and covered in 20 or more ticks. "Spencer produced!" was my nieghbor's comment, because this little thing did look somewhat like my current dog. I felt so bad for the skinny little thing and so gave it a can of tuna to perk it up a bit. It then walked into my house, ate Spencer's leftover bones, and laid down in his bed. When Spencer returned from wherever he was, the little thing decided he was going to protect me from the evil giant and began barking and growling at him. This little puppy is the size of Spencer's head, but doesn't lack any gumption, based on his bravado throughout the situation.

I left for Kampala the next day, and decided that if the dog stuck around I would at least feed it and take care of its ticks until I could find it a home, because it seemed that he had adopted me as his human. Besides, his ears stick out and he looks a lot like Yoda, so I had already named him, which we all know is a bad sign. Well, I got back from the weekend in Kampala and he was still there. My neighbor tells me Spencer took to protecting the little bugger from the other big dogs in the area, who have a propensity to kill unattended puppies. So by the time I got back, these two were best friends and Yoda was following Spencer around like his own little Mini-Me. And after over a week of good food and a comfy place to sleep, the little guy is perking up and has even started to lift and wag its tail.

So now I'm pretty sure the neighborhood dogs are talking to each other and telling each other that my place is a good spot for a free meal. I'm guessing that soon I'll be running a dog kennel. I guess I always knew it was only a matter of time before I became a crazy dog lady, I just didn't know it would happen so soon. Luckily I have a taker for this current puppy, and soon I'll just be back to my one dog, which is more than enough.

Chewmonster Spencer

It finally happened. Spencer's good behavior couldn't last forever, I knew that, but I was waiting for the fall. It is here now. I think Spencer must have reached the teenage rebellious stage, because suddenly I cannot leave him alone inside my house anymore for any length of time. Not only does he jump on my bed, furniture he knows he's not allowed to be on, but he now chews my blanket while there. Granted I probably spilled some food on it at some point, but still, you'd think he could leave the sanctity of my bed in tact.

He also has discovered he has a shoe fetish. At first it was just one of my flip flops I use to walk around behind my house. Then it was a pair of my neighbors shoes that she doesn't wear anymore. But it's gotten a bit ridiculous. He chewed up a pair of shoes that the younger brother of my neighbor wore around while doing house chores, and since those are gone now he has to wear his big sisters high heeled sandals to do the work. Then he chewed one each of two different pairs of my flip flops again. This time, he luckily went for the left foot of one pair and the right foot of the other, so at least I still have one pair; they might be mismatched but who cares? I can still wear them around as long as I don't go out in public with them.

Spencer has always like to chew on my wooden furniture, so there's no surprise that every chair leg and bed post has teeth marks in it. But I just bought a new mat for the floor, and what does he do? Chews the papyrus reed to shreds. At least it was only about 3000/=, which is about $1.50. And I wanted this monster in my house? The joys of dog ownership.

There Actually IS a Reason...

So there are a lot of strange superstitions and cultural norms (at least to me anyway) here in Uganda that I'm not used to. I used to think they were ridiculous, until I found out the reason for one of them recently.

Everyone tells me not to eat while walking. If that were the case in America, I think half the population would starve because we're all so busy running around often the only time we have to eat is when we're moving. Not here though. And every time I asked why you aren't supposed to eat while walking, I got a different answer; it's rude, it's bad for your digestion, you might spill, you'll drop your food, etc. I finally know the real reason.

I was walking along chatting with Scott while eating a meat samosa, which I know is against cultural norms here, but I was hungry. I was gesticulating, of course, and holding the half eaten samosa between us, when I felt something hit me in the head and realized my samosa was no longer in my hand. Then I saw it, the dirty samosa thieving hawk that the samosa vendors always warn me about but I thought was just silly. It flew down, hit both Scott and me in the head with its wings, and stole my breakfast right out of my hand. Evil rotten thing.

Anyway, now I'm keeping my mind open to all the other things that don't exactly make sense to my American sensibilities. After all, we have some pretty strange superstitions as well; don't step on a crack, black cat crosses your path, don't walk under a ladder, dont open your umbrella indoors, etc. Anyway, things make sense, sometimes.