Last night at four
Suddenly I wake up. The sun hasn't risen yet, but I had to go to the toilet urgently. I still have a lot in my bladder from last night. In Germany, going to the toilet was easy. Here, on day 2 at the dog farm on Mallorca, it's not so easy!
The toilets are only accessible via the large dog yard. And as you know, you don't want to wake sleeping dogs in the middle of the night. But my request is urgent. Rational thinking is switched off! The urge to relieve myself takes over. It doesn't even occur to me that the dogs might not recognize me and mistake me for a burglar. But that doesn't occur to me with a “1-liter bladder”. Nature pushes, so off I go through the middle.
My first experiences at the dog rescue station
I was very scared at times because there are a lot of rescued dogs here who have also experienced traumatic things. By “also” I mean me. I fit in well with these dogs - from small to a massive Rottweiler. However, the Rottweiler seems to me to be very playful. It's often the little ones that really bite. I'm talking about the dog called “Stich”, a small, frightened French Bulldog.
“Stich” has a terrible history. He had been locked in a room for years. He could only see out through a crack in the door through which he was fed. What he saw were: Shoes. All day long he only saw shoes through the crack in the door. That's probably why “Stich” is so keen on shoes. ... and now a pair of shoes on my feet are entering “Stich's” hallway. Unfortunately, this hallway is on the way to the bathroom. Normally, “Stich” is locked up in the rooms of Maxi and Peppe, the hosts who own the dog farm. Will I be so lucky today?
I got “Stich-ed” - The dog “Stich”
I try to be quiet. I have hope and confidence that the dogs won't hear me. I cross the yard and open the wooden gate very slowly. The soft squeak is barely audible. I creep quietly to the bathroom. Past the sleeping dogs, right through the motion detector for the light, and ... perfect timing ... The motion detector goes on - as do the dogs. The courtyard is now brightly lit and I am flanked by the barking of dogs from the finca.
I hurry towards the dark corridor that leads to the bathroom door. It's only my headlamp that casts a beam of light into the dark corridor leading to the bathroom. I'm lucky, all the dogs recognize me. But I rejoiced too soon. From the direction of the bathroom, I hear another bark coming towards me. I recognize this bark immediately: it's “Stich”. His bark is coming from somewhere in the dark, closer and closer.”
Under attack
Below me, at my feet in the dark hallway, I can hear “Stich” with his distinctive bark and waddling steps. His reaction to my intrusion into his territory will probably be ice-cold - seemingly without conscience. The little French bulldog scurries past me again and again by the light of my headlamp. I lose sight of him. There! I see his bottom jump out of the beam of my lamp to my left before he finally jumps onto my shoes and tears at them ... “Stich” tugs. “Stich” rattles my shoelaces before disappearing from the light of my headlamp. I struggle forward, but “Stich” blocks my narrow passage to the bathroom. Red alert for me. Now with the headlamp in my hand, I panic and wave the headband back and forth in front of “Stich”. In the darkness of the night, Stich's head keeps popping up in the headlights. I'm reminded of one of those deep-sea documentaries with creepy deep-sea fish as I fend off “Stich's” attacks.
Luckily, “Stich” responds to my desperate waving of the headlamp strap and I make it to the toilet under heavy attack. After I've done my business, I fight my way back to my bedroom. To my surprise, unharmed. If I had known, I would have preferred to pee in the garden.
Addendum
A few days have passed since that night. Even though “Stich” still barks, he now lets me stroke him and he leaves the shoes alone. He is slowly getting to know and trust me and I am starting to like him.
Written on 12.06.2024
