I have been missing my dog, Lily, every single day since I left Canada in April. Every. Single. Day. I miss the way she would happily greet me at the door more than 5 times a day - each time as if I had been gone for a year. I miss her nails clicking happily on the wooden floor, her calm presence, and the way she always knew when I was sad. I miss how she was always up for anything - a run, a snowshoe, a walk, a drive - at anytime of the day or night. She was wonderful company and was my best friend.
When I left Lily behind, It was the right move for her. Not for me. I knew that she was better off staying in Canada where she would be more comfortable and cool. She would be able to continue to run in the woods and swim in the lakes and not suffer through the desert heat. Also, I understood that owning dogs as pets was not common in Qatar. I made the hard call, but leaving her behind hurt.
Since I moved to Qatar, I have avoided owning a dog, even though I am what non-dog people call "a dog person". "I am too busy", I thought. "My villa really isn't the place for a dog, there is no room in my life for a dog, the community isn't supportive of owning dogs as pets, etc etc", I justified.
Then I met Aston. The first time I met him he was wild. He jumped up on me fifty-five times, made a complete mess of my clothes and did not listen to or obey one command. Just before I left, he gave me a solid headbutt and split open the side of my eye so that it bled. He was an untrained, energetic, frenetic ball of puppy.
"I will take him", I said like a maniac, immediately after my skull was rocked by his flying head butt. I did not call any breeders, I did not do any internet research, and I did not email any friends with huskies to find out more about them. I simply confirmed that I would take him on the spot, while my ears were still ringing.
The first night he arrived was so exciting! My brother and his girlfriend were visiting and were staying with me in Doha, so I figured I would be well-equipped with back-up support when introducing Aston to his new life. Within two hours, all three of us were exhausted, worn out from chasing him around the villa, and trying to pry my socks, the bath mats, the towels, the tissue boxes and pretty much anything that was not nailed down from his very strong jaws.
What got me through those first five days with the little devil, was the support of my brother and the fact that I did a lot of running with him to tire him out. And drinking. And running. While doing all of this running with Aston, I seriously questioned my sanity in taking on an untrained, unsocialized, Siberian Husky puppy on my own. What was I thinking? Had I made a mistake? A rash decision in the aftermath of the flying headbutt?
Over the next two weeks, life with Aston improved markedly. I found a Dog Whisperer to help me with his training. I found a lovely dog walker who visits him and walks him a few times a day while I am at work. Already, he can walk fairly well on a leash. He can do a couple of laps of the compound without completely terrifying the neighbors and the neighborhood cats. He can obey a few simple commands (when he wants to). He has been swimming and he now plays with other dogs without biting them. He has made friends on his weekly adventure walks. Huzzah! To me, this is progress.
He and I are also making progress. I no longer call him "Lily" by mistake. And, I think he likes me. We have a long way to go, and a lot of progress to make, but I think I am safe in saying that I have made my home into a doghouse again.
