Dog’s Rain
The smoker’s lungs finally breathe fresher air, and his eyes worth its ability to the scenery. For months, I’ve been thinking about going to Subaya Hill again, especially after listening straight up days to nothing but The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughan Williams. To go far from the city is to take my tiresome mind away out of the mundane life of an underpaid worker, the unfinished undergraduate thesis, and a decade being single. Subaya Hill is quite rare, for the never-changing modest spectacle, in the midst of overdeveloping and populated natural attractions.
I have been to Subaya Hill four times, the first two do not matter, the third visit I made a story where you can read it also on my page — but it’s in Indonesian (not English), which is convenient both ways because nobody reads my story anyway. This one is the fourth and it was just days ago…
I was thinking about the dogs that live in Subaya Hill, whenever I took my dog for a daily late afternoon walk back at home. So does I think just about my dog when I finally met the dogs in Subaya Hill. How at different worlds these organisms are living — the social differences within dogs, somehow happens just as similar as a human being. Not to be surprised yet never to talk about out of plain evidence. My dog’s name is Lily, and she’s five years old.
Dogs on the rural side rarely have a name. I went to many places where I met dogs and supposedly their owner, judging from geographical close proximity around the area where I met the dogs, or just around the village houses which I across the path on. I asked these people around, what their name’s are (the dogs), and the answer often resounded “I do not know” or “They do not have one” or” “They just happened to be around here, which their origin is unknown to me”. To put another story and place — I once named one of the dogs in Bukit Tengah, Klungkung, went with the name — Cody. The supposed owner of the dog did not mind and said “Yeah we can call him that”. Cody is still alive and the supposed owner of Cody become my friend. You can also find this story on my blog, if you did not want to.
Back to Subaya Hill, I met two dogs — the white one, and the black one. I asked the owner about their names, but Mr. Nengah did not quite catch my question, or the idea itself, as they were probably so uncommon here or it was just bad Balinese on my part. That day’s visit was hot and humid, and there is really no wind even up top of the hill, but the view was bright and clear. My friends open up some snacks and water in bottles, and some went for the dogs. I asked Mr. Nengah about the dogs’ plain sight poor condition — fur loss, visible rib bones, and their weary eyes — especially the black one.
Mr. Nengah said that the dogs are dying because of the old age, again — especially the black one. I asked what food he gives to these dogs, and he said “anything available” and the dogs just eat without hesitation. Rice and chicken broth while common to them are hardly available, and what is available are days goes without really eating. Mr. Nengah continued, as long as there are people who visit the place, they only could ask some bit of what the people bring. My conversation with Mr. Nengah was neat, and the dogs mistook my tobacco roll as some threat for them to have. Mr. Nengah and I share a similar way of smoking, which is the cheap, non-manufacturer, self-made, and way to give some part of our expenses to the local sellers.
Thinking back at home and the area I live in, dogs owner are the most insufferable piece of featherless biped ever. Always goes in for the competition, comparing the what’s what. What kind of food they give to their dogs, what kind of exercise they do daily, what kind of intellectual practices as to impress and show other owners that their dog is “smart and listen”. All of these, but the natural social interaction between dogs is about, as simple as just let them be. These people, like to give such a social gap between dogs beyond necessary, or just their dog(s) and other dogs in that matter. One of my encountered examples is how they try to snap the natural relation between dogs — the sniffing of the butt, especially within oppositional sex. My dog — Lily, and I, we rarely friendly beings saying “Hello, how convenient that we met with us just do about same activities” to every dog owner that just does about same activities, like us. Or “Let me give you some tips on how to handle your dogs in no way I understand any context at all”. We are friendly most of the time when there is no owner around. Because when the owner is around, everything is just like what I described previously. Other than that, we like to keep everything ordinary.
In Bali, dog owner often does this “traditional practice” to dog(s), that being bought, adopted, or as a given. The practice is simple — measure the dog’s length from the tip of their nose to the end of their tail, as to judge the dog’s personality, which is divided by four: ‘Lazy’, ‘Prosperous’, and the other two I forgot. How the personality get in result, is to count sequentially using the four personalities from point to point of that very area of length described. All of this is nothing but non-sense, in my humble opinion, because the dog’s length will obviously change throughout their growth, and which one to begin within the procedure of using the four personalities is unclear, which makes it arbitrary. One of my family members reported being in such disappointment when the puppies they just got — got the ‘Lazy’. This practice probably not so around anymore, but the possibility of its existence is hardly extinct. If anything it’s humans that should go extinct.
There was a long silence between me and Mr. Nengah, and in that silence I contemplate some stories about dogs around my simple experience and understanding. My friends were basically socially crippled so they didn’t know how to talk or wouldn’t talk to Mr. Nengah. Traditional language is important, for you can go anywhere with your English — but your own homeland. “Dog’s rain” I put the title, a melancholic loyalty of the black one and the white one to Mr. Nengah, and how they chose to stay far at up top hills and devoted to just to live there, and also protecting the place. Just around minutes down the hills, you can meet the opposite condition of dogs who lives in the small town on one’s way to reach Subaya Hill. I wonder if the black one and the white one ever want to take a journey of a better life to the town.
The thing is, dogs usually ready at hand as early as puppies to take the journey away from their dog mother. To live separately and never know who their relatives are, to serve a master, to adapt, to have purposes. If lucky is to be happy in a kind and healthy environment, lots of snack and toys, but also sometimes to live full of lacking, to die an old age feeling confused, hungry, and pain. Shall they live longer? As we humans always playful with our wishes…
The sun’s going down, and I bid farewell to Mr. Nengah for the time of companion, and I promised to come back again to see him and his dogs, with more food and money. The least I can do…
