Having one of the worst summers this year — with temperatures reaching 47˚C almost daily — meant that I had to keep the pack and other wadi creatures (cats and myna birds) hydrated.
Every morning, I’d be pulling a 10-litre jerrycan filled with water behind me and head to the wadi under the scorching sun and oven-like heat, to find the wadi turned into The Cave of Wonders with everything the pack managed to loot from around the neighbourhood the night before.
From ladies and children’s shoes to food containers, the pack were definitely a pragmatic lot! As for the plates I served their food on, they mostly ended up on top of the mountain, glistening so brightly under the sun.
Once while carrying the jerrycan across the wadi to fill the tub, I was shocked to see a few days-old puppies scattered all over the place. There were around five of them still alive and crawling on the hot sand. The mother was at a good distance barking and I wasn’t sure what to do.
I assisted the position of each puppy and found that the one nearest to my foot was the most exposed to the sun, so I quickly scruffed him from the neck and placed him in the shade close by the tub. The mother kept barking and I decided to avoid eye contact and mind my own business, filling the tub and leaving at once.
I spent the whole morning thinking about the puppies; was the mother simply moving or abandoning them? And if so, what should I do?
My dilemma was over by the afternoon when I heard them whimpering under the Ghaf tree.
As summer progressed, dogs from adjacent neighbourhoods started showing up. Almost every evening, I could hear Fayga and Rayga joining the rest of the pack in their barking chorus to protect their territory.
It was during the Eid lockdown when the pack suddenly disappeared without a trace. I kept leaving them food to find it untouched the very next day. I was worried sick about them and when I got a phone call from my neighbour Khadija, it just confirmed my worst fears.
According to her, the neighbours were fed up with the continuous barking and were planning — in their WhatsApp group — to call the police to get rid of them.
“They must’ve done it during the holidays!” wailed Khadija. While she and her daughter cried their eyes out, I spent the following days sulking and complaining to Mom about how much I missed my girls Fayga and Rayga. It was exactly a week later when I heard Aunt Rahma shouting from over the wall that the dogs were back and I must go and feed them at once! I took some food and rushed to find Fayga, Rayga and Van Damme only.
The three were clearly starved and dehydrated. Where were they and what happened to the rest of the pack? Nobody knows. Since then, the dogs had left the wadi for good but kept turning up occasionally to eat.
Hajras joined a week later which was a relief. I still leave them food daily, though it’s mostly eaten by stray cats who moved there instead (felines rule!) and minas.
My experience with the dogs taught me to view them differently: happy creatures with contagious positivity yet severely misunderstood. Last week, Fayga and Rayga passed by the house and accompanied me to the wadi. Sadly, their street-life experience increased their mistrust to humans and hence the distance between us too. But who cares? As long as they’re around, that’s what really matters.
The writer is a certified skills trainer and author
