Gepubliceerd: 04.02.2022
During Darshi's stay in Bangkok, I made friends with the dog at the resort. After all, everyone needs some attention and care, and this dog seems to be particularly in need. No one knows where he belongs or where he came from, as he doesn't wear a collar. He simply chose this place as his home at some point. He is completely silent, I have only heard him bark once. Overall, he seems traumatized, as he is very cautious around strangers. Before we got to know each other better, he didn't react to my attempts to approach him, he rather withdrew. But that doesn't mean he is cowardly, he is just cautious, which seems wise to me considering his possible traumatic experiences.
Our resort caretakers from Myanmar do feed him, with rice and various scraps of food, and they consider him to be part of the resort. However, they do not treat him kindly, let alone pet or show him any other affection.
In my imagination, the dog seems safe here, but also very sad and lonely. That's why I decided to take care of him a little - something I've never done before, although there have been plenty of opportunities on every vacation. I probably feel a little connected to him, lone wolves.
So I brought him a small dog treat from my next supermarket visit, little dried meat sticks. First, I stored my groceries in the hut, took out 2 of the sticks from the packaging, and sat on the steps of my hut. Waving the sticks in front of me and calling out to him, I tried to get his attention. He was dozing off in the utility building in front of me, and sleepily and initially unimpressed raised his head. It took quite a while and more encouraging words until he realized that there might be something delicious for him to get. Slowly, he stood up and started approaching me cautiously, but still stayed at a considerable distance to examine the sticks more closely and assess the situation more accurately. Was it all safe?
In the end, curiosity and appetite won, and he came closer hesitantly, keeping an eye on me and the stick, alert to the possibility that it might be a trap. He quickly grabbed the stick and retreated a few meters back, keeping a safe distance. He quickly devoured the small treat and sniffed the sandy ground for any fragments. But when he found nothing, he looked uncertainly at me and still saw me sitting on the steps, waving the next stick. He cautiously approached again, but this time with less hesitation. He grabbed the stick again and immediately disappeared with it. I watched as he enjoyed the treat until he finished it, and he looked at me curiously again. I let him know that it was enough for this moment and that there would be no more sticks, then I disappeared into the hut. He stayed briefly in his place, hoping that there might still be something for him to get, but soon trotted back to his starting point, where he immediately closed his eyes and dozed off.
We played this game a few times. Two or three times a day, I gave him 2 sticks, which he eagerly but also hastily took from my hand and devoured at a safe distance.
His trust in me grew with each passing day, and so I began to pet him and talk to him, which he clearly enjoyed. He lays his ears back when I stroke him on the head and licks with his tongue, sometimes with his eyes open, sometimes closed. I assume that means he likes it, because every time I stop, he nudges me with his nose and encourages me to continue. In the meantime, he follows me with his eyes when I leave the place and when I come back, always in eager anticipation of a little affection. He knows perfectly well that the bag is in the window, and as soon as I pick it up, he comes running and positions himself expectantly in front of my stairs. But he still takes the bites away before eating them at a safe distance, not sure if I would snatch them from him again or do something mean to him in an unobserved moment.
Sometimes, when I go to the beach, I invite him to come along, which he sometimes does, albeit hesitantly. Nevertheless, I feel like he enjoys the invitation and the change of scenery. Sometimes he walks ahead for a while, stops and looks around to see if I'm still there, but he never goes further than the Wang Sai Restaurant, that seems to be his territorial limit, beyond which he doesn't dare go. I try to encourage him to play, patting my thighs and crouching down. Immediately, he gets ready to jump, makes various moves to the left and right. I think I've got him there, but then he suddenly retreats, confused and unsettled, and goes back to the resort. Either he doesn't know anything like that and has never had anyone to play with, neither dog nor human, or his experiences with it were extremely painful. Further encouragement is then useless, he stays where he is and looks somehow disturbed. But as soon as I wave the sticks again, he is there immediately.
Sometimes, when I come home in the dark in the evening and he seemingly doesn't recognize me, he comes towards me with an angry look and a slight growl. I imagine that he wants to protect my hut from foreign intruders, who knows? I turn to him and talk to him until he recognizes me and gets a few strokes. And while I lie in the hammock for another hour, he lies in front of my stairs like a watchdog. He doesn't dare to come up the whole staircase, at least not on his own. Until one day I invited and encouraged him to do so, but it took a lot of encouragement. He comes to me at the hammock, puts his head on my belly, and enjoys my petting. When I stop, he lies down next to me on the veranda.
I will miss this guy when we go back to Sritanu.