In the Company of Animals

I’ve been called a social person but I don’t particularly consider myself social. I like the company of people – but for it to evolve into a real friendship, I have a very extensive criteria; fun, relaxed, easy going; the usual. Over the years, I’ve managed to meet some truly wonderful people and make what I hope to be long lasting friendships. There aren’t too many of these kind of people around. You know the type – the ones that just pop round for a coffee and a chat; no formal invitation necessary? I love these people! True friends. Failing that, I’m just as happy in the company of animals.

Dinner with friends is always nice

Its not easy making friends. Quite often, moving to a new place and meeting someone new is like dating. You’re infatuated! Mesmerised! And dare I say… desperate? You spend a lot of time together getting to know one another and inevitably, cracks eventually start to show. You notice the flaws and as with any relationship; romantic or platonic, both parties are at a cross road. Can they accept the flaws and maintain the friendship?

As with any expat community, there is a mishmash of cultures. Making a connection is hard; and often maintaining a connection is even harder. So how does one make and maintain a connection in a place that’s always transient and a micro-community that is always temporary?

Some people make it look easy. They always seem to be out and about partying it up with friends. I would hazard a guess and say they have to work very hard at that. Is it a true friendship if you have to work so hard for it? Or are some people just better salesmen?

#foodporn

For the moment, my approach is to keep busy organizing holidays, skyping old friends, writing this blog and volunteering at the local animal shelter. These are all the things I like to do. If I meet someone along the way, great! We will atleast have something in common by meeting while doing something we enjoy. If not, I’m just as happy in the company of animals!

Oh My Dog!!!

You guessed it; this post is about our fur baby! This week we celebrated Gibson's fourth birthday - and the first in Doha! It also happens to be smack bang in the middle of Ramadan! So to mark the occasion, I've decided to devote this post entirely to Gibson.

Oh my dog!

He can do all that?

Now, its not much I grant you; but bearing in mind that he has two working parents and spends most of his time indoors either alone or with a nanny, its pretty impressive! Gibson loves to lie upside down and smile, shakes both his paws, sits pretty, stays when told told to, waits to eat and goes bananas for cheese! He can open doors - as long as they swing outward. And of course, he knows when dad is around he has to sleep on his own bed. When dad isn't home, its cuddle time with mummy!

Oh my dog puddle!

As we lived in rental accommodation, toilet training Gibson was a bit of a challenge. We decided we were going to teach him to 'communicate' with us and let us know everytime he needed a toilet break. I had been YouTube'ing all week for ideas and happened upon one which suggested ringing a bell when the dog went to the toilet. Thereby training him to ring a bell when he needed to 'go'. This ofcourse, didnt work. Gibbs just seemed to enjoy ringing the bell - the way cats do!
So we then decided to try to get him to stand near a door when he needed to go outside.
Everytime Gibson stood by the door, my husband (Ro) would run over to open the door while I picked Gibson up, tucked his tail under his bum (to avoid any miss-haps) and carry him out to the lawn. After four hours of this; and not a single tinkle, we were getting both bored, and tired.
So naturally, the next time Gibson went to the door, Ro's response was, "Ignore him. He's faking." Ofcourse Gibson had other ideas. He patiently waited for us to open the door and when that didnt happen, he slowly did the pee squat. Ro and I jumped off the couch in a mad panic. He was screaming "OPEN THE DOOR OPEN THE DOOOR". As I opened the door, I saw Ro pick Gibson up, tuck his tail under his bum and all but throw him out into the yard. We had a trail of dog pee from where Gibson had started to squat, all the way out the door and all over Ro's hands and my feet! Oh the joys of toilet training a puppy!


Oh my dog!
Is it rubber? Is it roast? No. Its Electrodog!

When Gibson was just a few months old, while he still had his puppy teeth, he loved to spend his days chewing. He'd chew through reticulation, the floor-mat at the door, the sprinklers, drain pipe, plastic lid on the drain. He even ate the potted chilli plant in the garden - right down to the stalk! Strangely enough, he chewed everything except shoes!
We came home one day to find we had no power. I looked down the street and noticed we were the only house in the dark. Had we paid the electricity bill? After going through our mail with a torch in hand and confirming our bill had been paid, we started switching off all the appliances in the house. Every time we switched one back on, the house would short circuit! Just as we were about to call the electrician, my husband said, "didn't we leave the pond pump running this morning?" It turned out while we thought Gibson was just being good; laying around on the lawn, he was actually gnawing on the cables to the pond pump! How he managed to avoid being electrocuted everytime we tested the system that evening, I'll never know!