The Dog Story

There are two dogs in Reno that I would like to think I saved. The first one was this big rottweiler running across McCarron Blvd, looking lost but sniffing out something tempting and heading right into swiftly approaching traffic. I pulled over, called the obviously friendly dog to me, checked his tags, and called the owner. A few minutes later the owner showed up, apologized profusely and said thank you. I saw the second dog jumping over a ridiculously high brick fence as I drove to work on Bering Avenue. After he landed, he raced immediately into the middle of the street and I barely missed hitting him. Slamming on the brakes, I pulled over, got out, cautiously called over the huge pit bull (who turned out to be a little love bug), and drove around with the guy drooling in the back seat until I found the address because no number was given on the tag. Both times the owners were really embarrassed, apologetic and grateful. If they hadn't been, I would have been worried. I saw a few other dogs running loose in Reno, but wasn't able to get to them or was pretty sure they weren't in much danger.

Cut to today and I don't give the scrawny stray passing me on the street a second thought, other than please don't bite me. I don't like that I've grown accustomed to ignoring the plethora of roaming dogs here. I don't like that I cringe out of fear as a big dog approaches and I don't like that I pick up rocks as I jog just in case the stray dogs by the river decide to take a toothy interest in me. The animals that I would pull over back home to save I now want nothing to do with. Instead of saying that I've lost some sort of tenderness towards animals, I'm going to say that the animals here, the dogs particularly, are different. They're smart. They'll wait at a crosswalk to cross with people. They'll look both ways before stepping into a street. They'll stay out of your way if you'll stay out of theirs. And in times of dire need, they will even take the bus, to the amusement and fear of all passengers.

It's survival of the fittest, not to mention smartest, working its magic. Our American house dogs wouldn't last five minutes here on their own and perhaps the stray dogs of Romania should feel proud of their ability to integrate into society and make it on their own. They do, however, cause many problems, especially in the forms of possibly-rabies-laden bites and car accidents, but the situation is by no means their fault. Stray dogs form yet another reminder of the communist past, when landowners were forced to give up their homes in the countryside and move into apartments in the city, where dogs were not allowed. The only option, other than to kill the family pets, was to release them into the wild, where they bred and bred and bred into the iron tough and quick witted dogs we see today.

There are very few programs here like the SPCA or the humane society, so there is simply no place for stray or abandoned animals to be sheltered, meaning they remain in the wild where they breed and breed and breed. A few programs have started up recently that take in stray dogs, neuter or spay them, put a chip in their ear, and then release them, which will eventually start having an effect if enough counties and people start supporting the procedure. Therein lies a large part of the problem. Getting several people who are still recovering from a traumatic past and who are still trying to find their feet in a global life to care about the status of animals in their country is, understandably, tough. And getting several people to believe that spaying and neutering animals is a way to prevent hundreds of unwanted animals from being born, not a form of cruelty that takes away an animal's machoness or femininity, takes time. Thoughts and ideas will have to change before the packs roaming the city outskirts start to shrink. The dogs can't be expected to do it all on their own.

I think of those two dogs in Reno once in a while and wonder how they are. I hope their owners are taking good care of them and they aren't jumping over any tall fences. I hope they pause from time to time and recognize their good luck, even though that's not a possibility for a dog to do. I'd still like to think that they're aware.

Din Nou

Again, or anew. The Drama Club met for the first time today since May and I was pleased with a turn out of 17 students, most of whom were eager to participate. As I made my way from work to the meeting, I questioned my nerves. Last year at this time while I prepared for my first encounter with the Drama Club, I could hardly sleep at night. The notes in my hands trembled as I delivered my cheesy little spiel and I wondered why on earth somebody so self conscious actually thought she could teach drama. Today was different. I felt nothing but excitement as I passed through the school's gates and crossed the cement yard. I made my way up the stairs and down the stairs and through the winding corridors that now feel rather homey with nothing but bursts of glee and the unnecessary paper-copy plan for the session. A symphony of hellos greeted me as I entered the room and we started year two of "Teach the Volunteer", also known as Drama Club.