The Last Straw

One morning, at 2 a.m., I awoke to the familiar sounds of my neighborhood pack of dogs chasing someone, but something about this chase sounded different. I took up my front row seat, that is, stood on my fifth floor balcony, to observe the proceedings below. In the courtyard were two packs - one of dogs, the other of people. Several of the people were holding chairs out in front of them, like lion tamers, balancing the chairs in one arm. I thought the cafe owner would be upset to know his chairs were being removed from the premises until I spotted the owner amongst them. And in lieu of the long whip you would expect to see in the lions ring at the circus, these folks had rocks in their other hands and were throwing the rocks at the dogs in an attempt to prod the canines back so that the people could reach their cars. I felt like a Roman watching the Christians and the lions but I wasn't really sure who was who.

This early morning spectacle followed a knock on my door earlier in the week by two of the young girls living in my building. They were about 11 or so years old. They handed me a clipboard with a document attached that looked like a petition and I heard one of them mention the word "dog". I assumed that they were looking for support to stop the police from carrying out their now long overdue stray extermination policy, and I handed back the petition, unsigned, to the girls, saying in bad Albanian, that "I didn't like dogs" - now this blanket statement isn't true, but due to my severe language restrictions, subtlety in meaning was not an option and it was the best I could do in conveying my actual sentiment which was: "I have nothing against dogs. While I have never owned dogs, I appreciate why pet owners love their dogs, they are furry and fun when they fetch, and I wish all dogs could be in loving homes, and I am sad that this situation exists in Kosovo where strays are forced to fend for themselves and become territorial through no fault of their own, and yes, life is unfair, but there is no way in hell that I am going to do anything to stop the potential removal of those four legged tormentors from beneath my windows." The girl, who took the clipboard back, fixed me with a stare so focused and determined that I was momentarily at a loss, and then she said in a steely, eerily mature voice, "we don't like dogs either" at which point I realized that the 11 year olds had started their own campaign to try and get the police to finally take action. I signed, willingly. And yet, the week went by with still no results.

So the morning after my circus show, I called my friend at the OSCE and she sent me all the apartment postings on their intranet. Within two days I had found a flat an additional 15 minute walk from the center (called the suburbs by locals), twice the size, nicely furnished, same price, and blissfully quiet (well, relatively, as despite being dubbed the suburbs, there are still lots of city noises), although me determining that resulted in dubious glances being exchanged between my future landlords as I grilled them and their 9 year old son about dogs and birds for at least ten minutes: "so tell me, how many strays are in the neighborhood? do they socialize with each other? ever been chased? ever heard them? tell me about the birds? do you hear the birds? how many birds have you seen? where do the birds sleep?" ... While they think I am a crazy woman obsessed with dogs and birds (and they are right), they still agreed to rent me their flat. The move was not traumatic, I have settled in, hosted my book club here and have even had two house guests from the States since then - Prof. B and T, Esq. - who alas did not get to experience the joys of the dog pack or the blackbird chorus at 4 a.m. Some things we can all live without.