sad sausage dog story


POSTCARD#285: Bangkok: Taxi to the airport for the flight to the island … did I remember everything? Packed and unpacked so many times, pause for a moment and I can’t remember if this was a pack or an unpack – ah well… I know it’s a continuance of the journey from Delhi because so much of the space inside the bag is taken up with clothes not yet unpacked. We had one night in Bangkok and now we’re headed for Samui, a small island in the Gulf of Siam.

Layers of folded, flat-pack clothing, still chilled from the 4 hour journey over from Delhi, ready to leap out and take human form, when we get to the island. Bag contents include another layer on top of folded clothes; the cables, adapters and sockets we need to recharge our batteries; “Oh no, my battery is running out!” Jiab says, collapses into her seat with a sigh, as if exhausted. No power source until we get to the hotel. And the remains of my bag capacity is filled up with the soft pillow I carry with me everywhere, fluffy and light, full of air, and placed on top of the cables, so that, when the bag is zipped shut, it holds everything in place.

But, is there something I still have to do? Still there’s the lingering doubt… I’ve had to double check on actions ever since the last stay in the Delhi hospital – large bruises all over the back of my left hand and right forearm, where the nurse unsuccessfully probed for a vein – they’re hopelessly small, but she got it in the end. It was just a flu virus, thankfully not dengue fever or anything more nasty. Three days in there, and TV watching – television must be a very good analogy for something I could write about, but do I want to do that? No. Discharged after 2 nights, and next day, into the aircraft. Now we’re in Thailand, on the way to get the one-hour flight to Samui.

I’m so forgetful these days; can’t remember how to do things that used to be automatic. Simple actions like going upstairs, now I have to consciously create the necessary coordination, otherwise I’d trip on the steps. Going down is the same… hesitation; it seems like such a miracle that I get to the bottom safely. The necessity of mindfulness in everything I do from here on.

I’ve experienced a few forgetful and confusing things lately, forgetting ordinary words, and the honesty of those freeze-frame blank moments. Particularly the sad sausage dog story, that inspired this post. We had to give up our rented house and stayed with our Japanese friends for a while, in a small 3-bedroom ground floor apartment. Long corridors extending out from a central living room, and a bedroom at the end of each corridor. Very good for privacy, but confusing for the cute little Dachshund (sausage dog) our friends were looking after while the owner was away.

I’d be lying in bed and hear the click, click, click, of toenails coming along towards where we were. Then the poor creature would arrive at our open bedroom door, look around as if to say, “Is this where I’m supposed to be?” Pause for a moment, then turn around to go back. That was when I witnessed, for the first time, a Dachshund dog perform a 3-point turn to face back the way she came. The front legs seemed to have all the action worked out; the rear legs just sort of stumbled on things lying in the way, and followed the action of the front two. The pink doggie diapers it was wearing at the end of the long body accentuated the action. Then it would go off again, click, click, click, and pink diapers with tail sticking through would disappear in the long straight corridor. After 10 minutes  we’d hear it again approaching our room. Hesitate in the doorway: Hmmm. here again?

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.” [Melody Beatty]


Photo: Jiab in the front seat of the taxi

12 thoughts on “sad sausage dog story

  1. As I read this my husband and I are arguing about what papers we will need to bring from our northern home to our southern home so we can have what we need to file our taxes while we are down there. I say he’s in charge of them but he throws up his hands and says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Sigh. Best to you as you adjust to your changes.

    • Hi Sunny, always ‘do ye next thing’, there’s security in that. Death and taxes, or just getting on with ordinary things. I’ll be glad when we return to the familiarity of Thailand, so much easier…

      • Thanks for the reminder, T! Yes, familiarity will be helpful for us, too. Last year as our first in our Florida condo. Our one close friend there was struggling through the end of a troubling relationship, and we were in a place that bat as unfamiliar. We made friends with neighbors, met others along the way, and found the restaurants and business we wanted to frequent. Now our friend will be more available now, and we look forward to seeing everyone we know down there. And the house is nice, roomy, well appointed, and waiting for our return. I hope your days are sweet and easy and that getting back to Thailand is a joy.

      • Thanks Sunny,
        Sounds like there’s a renewed interest in getting things to work in the community there in Florida now. Always room to start afresh. Here in Bangkok there’s high humidity after the monsoon, weather as you have it in Florida I think…

    • The Dachshund breed was new to me, curious creature having that elongated middle. We don’t have pets, always on the move. I suppose there’s health insurance for dogs and that’s why the Vet can charge phenomenal fees…

  2. Poor little sausage dog was looking for her people.
    “Are you in here? No?” click, click, click…
    It’s a little heart-wrenching that we can’t explain our absences to our dogs.
    Cats don’t care. She probably wouldn’t even know I was gone…

    Seek peace,

    Paz

    • Thanks Paz, you included a part of the story I somehow forgot to include. The little sausage dog left with strangers in a strange house, but believing her people were in here somewhere. She had the look of being lost but not convinced her owners weren’t there. I was there when the owners arrived at the end of the long corridor leading to the outside world. Little sausage dog was beside herself with joy and relief. And yes, cats don’t lose their cool like that…

  3. I’m glad to hear that you didn’t have Dengue or something equally serious, though any time in the hospital is too much.

    This made me chuckle, “That was when I witnessed, for the first time, a Dachshund dog perform a 3-point turn to face back the way she came.” ❤

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