When I fought Satan

I love dogs. They are nice and cuddly, loyal friends and I never get tired of watching dogs chase things. However, since I've arrived in Kazakhstan, I've had the problem of dogs trying to eat me for lunch. Many volunteers in Kazakhstan at one point or another has some sort of alteration with a snarling angry dog. After comparing notes with friends, I believe that I have more dog problems than the average volunteer. This is something that I don't understand. I love dogs (and cats too), but I've never had problems with dogs until now.

The first couple of months were the worst. Dogs would chase me down the street, bark at me for no reason, or start snarling even before I was in their line of sight. Because of my problems, I started carrying a "doggie rock": a rock that fit in my palm well, but dense enough to cause some damage if it hit a maruading canine (Yes, this was my exact thought when I found this rock).

My doggie rock actually saved my life. On my first night in Karabulak, I slammed the rock on a dog's head. It’s not like I did this for fun. It tried to sneak attack me while I was doing my business in an outhouse. It lived, but I think I gave it brain damage because it didn't walk in a straight line after that and was a bit crosseyed. My host was really puzzled about the dog's actions, but just chalked it up to someone else throwing a rock at the dog. I never told her it was me.

When it comes to pitching rocks, I don’t have an arm like Randy Johnson, but I’m getting more accurate. And just to be clear, I don’t like throwing rocks at dogs. But I don't want to become lunch.

Aurora and Capt. Jack with my brother and I. These puppies are so cute, and actual proof that I love dogs! Perhaps when they are older I'll throw marshmellows at them, but never rocks. But on the other hand they wouldn't try to eat my soul.

After training, my relationship with canines in Kazakhstan got slightly better. My host family in Karabulak had a dog called “Omega”. I taught him how to play fetch, and he was really well behaved, although he would steal my shoes and bury them behind the banya.

However, Omega was a rebel, and he eventually ran away to join the “dog fleet”: a mass of 20 wildish (or unchained dogs) that would go rampaging around the town at dusk eating chickens, other dogs, and anything else they could find. I saw Omega one day a couple months later, eating garbage. Although we had a good rapport when he was at my host families house, I steered clear of him after that.

When I moved to Esik, I decided to take another strategy regarding dogs. For the first time, I was going to be nicer to them and not go flinging rocks every time one of them looked at me like I could be lunch. Esik doesn’t have a dog fleet, although there are 3-4 dogs that hang around my apartment. While they don’t belong to anyone, they have never barked at me or gave me any trouble, although I wouldn’t pet them. I did throw chicken scraps at them every once in awhile, to keep to the peace. The arrangement worked quite well.

Then Satan showed up.

Satan is a small black mutt with Death Star laser beams for eyes, a permanent scowl of a mouth, and can probably consume your soul faster than I can eat a fun pack of jellybeans. On a Friday I came home to find Satan camped out in front of my apartment door, snarling at me. I brandished my "doggie rock", and he backed off enough that I could sneak inside my door. Satan growled at my door for about another half an hour. The good news: I was safe. The bad news? I was under siege by an evil soul gnawer. It paced outside of my door for awhile, and eventually lay down on my doormat. With a good steel door between me and doom, I didn’t think much of the dog until the next day, when I opened my food cabinet and realized that with the exception of two eggs, the Ramen package was the last of my food.

Satan. I took this picture by opening the door a crack and blindly snapping a photo while praying that Satan wouldn't wedge open the door, fly inside, and feast on my soul. I also took this picture so that if Satan ate me, people would know the truth.

This particular week, I worked more than 50 hours at the Local Community Foundation creating their first annual report, so I didn’t have any time to go shopping. I was planning on doing this on Saturday. I made a dinner of Ramen noodles (my last package), and went to bed. When I woke up the next day, Satan was still there. And still very angry.

For the next 20 hours, Satan laid siege to my door. I couldn’t leave. Every time I opened the door, Satan was there, baring teeth. I wanted to go to the store, but with a snarling dog at my doorstep, I really couldn't go anywhere. I ran out of food at lunch. Satan stayed.

Closer to dinner time, I heard my neighbors. They were returning home. Then there was some growling, a couple of swear words in Russian, and when I looked out again, Satan was gone. After over 20 hours of being locked in my apartment I was saved.