Brave New World

9.00 in the morning Saturday and Louise and his son arrive outside the church in Vale. Son is the trainee trainer and so mimics Dad's training outfit of baggy pants tucked into Doc Martin type boots, peaked cap and the essential bum bag with choke chain on the hip. We head down to the field and it's all action there as half a dozen lads are loading up a truck with everything in sight to transport all to the main base of operations down the coast. Consequently Max and mutt are skittish as obviously something is up. But Louise reckons he seems a cool dog so Jerone loads him in to his pick up and pick up follows bike who follows scooter, that's my mode of transport, and we head off the fifteen minutes back to my 2 room mansion on the old sugar plantation. 

Wee Housie

My wee housie is just spot on as far as I'm concerned. A perfectly nice sized kitchen leads into the sitting room, equally a good size. With the kitchen door at one end and double doors leading on to the verandah, at the other end, the room always has a nice breeze blowing through and is pleasantly light and airy. Through the bedroom their's a loo and around the corner a sink and then the back door leads to my outdoor shower, walled in of course and overhung by one of my mango trees. Perfect, even in mid winter September. Then the great part is the wild garden surrounded by a volcanic rock wall which at it's lowest is about 5 foot. The garden consists of palms, mangoes, banana trees, 2 towering flame trees with creepers with 2 foot leaves entwined around them, a variety of shrubbery and other flora and fauna such as bougainvillea, hibiscus, coleus, ferns, bamboo and then my rosemary, curry tree, bayleaf, citronella and more. The ground base is part grass, part natural volcanic rock and gravel drive and pathways. So theoretically this should be a perfect location for a dog like Max to start a new life. 
Jerone brings Max in to the garden, let's him off the lead and then leaves fairly swiftly. Job done, responsibility over. Max, aged 6 months, is now left with three strangers, trainer Louise, trainee trainer son and me. He is in a strange new environment, he's never worn a lead, let alone a collar and he's never been in a house before. And he's only ever eaten mushy white rice with chicken feet! Brave new world or what. 

Max after 2 hours in his new home

For fifteen minutes or so he sniffs around the garden being mildly wary of us and not letting us close enough to leash him, until trainee trainer quietly collars him. Then for another fifteen minutes or so I lead him around the garden in a random pattern calling him to heel, where he remains one hundred percent, without any pulling or rebellion. Then the training duet depart telling me not to let him off the lead outside for a couple of days. Two hours later he's off the lead outside and quite happily exploring his new home. But how does he see it? Taken away from all he knew and deposited somewhere new. Shit, when I was kicked off to boarding school aged seven it was tears and desperate prayers to be magically transponded home for the first two weeks!
Opening the verandah doors Max enters a house for the first time with me in tow. He sniffs his way through to the kitchen and before I can stop him has a quick squirt against the fridge. Well it was predictable, but then when he goes through the motions two more times and I premeditate him and say 'No', just as the leg's about to be cocked, that seems to be potty training done and dusted. Through the rest of the day I tend to let Max do his own thing which tends to revolve around snoozing in a variety of locations on the floor, on the carpet or out on the verandah. Otherwise he sniffs around the house and garden and seems to be accepting everything in his stride. Good start I reckon, though a long way to go.

Settling in

Late afternoon and dinner time comes up, though Max's culinary delights now consist of gizzard, veg, garlic, soy and a bit of oil simmered for a couple of hours and mixed with brown rice. Max eats, what I'd reckon is a normal portion, and that seems to be day 1 concluded successfully. But of course I'd forgotten about mother cat and kitten who'd been coming round for dinner recently. Kitten meowing and pawing my ankle in a demanding manner and mother keeping her distance until the meal is served. Well I reckon it was best to carry on as norm and see what developed, as has to come to confrontation sometime. True to form they're outside the kitchen door, heads down in the bowl, as Max wanders in and stops, stares, takes it in and bounds. At the last second two varying sized bundles of white and grey fur go skywards, turning 180 degrees in mid air, land and in a blur head for the wall and safety. Max was in hot pursuit, but I don't know if he knew what he would have done if he had caught up. So for the next twenty minutes he patrolled the back wall and then all went back to normal until the second confrontation of the night. Romeo, an Olympic high jumping mutt is owned, but not controlled, by the Germanic Anna, on whose windscreen I one night left a message saying 'S'il vous plaisez. Will you please shut your fucking dogs up'. Consequently this earned me a visit from the local constabulary at 8.00 the following morning, though the visit was instigated by her fourth generation Germanic Mauritian neighbour Cedric who got the duplicate note. The plods stood back and observed as we went at it, though mainly in English unless I wanted them to understand what I was saying. I think I came out alright as his threats of pressing a charge for trespassing never materialised. I was actually more concerned that I might have a mysterious diving accident after relating the saga to my dive boss Olivier who said 'Ja, that's my brother'! Anyway Romeo used to hop, from a standing start, 5 feet on to the wall, and over, to play with Frankie, and then since she headed off to the Pearly Kennels would periodically visit to see if there was anything to scavenge. Same scenario ensued with a meeting outside the back door and Romeo retreating over the wall. But credit where credit's due as he was back again half an hour later. He's actually a cool dog is Romeo and no doubt he'll end up being mates with Max and then they can do a few k's around the garden of an evening. Doors locked, good night and no messes eight hours later. Yes, looking good. Two hours after writing the last sentence, and five days later, 'Maybe not' as Max just beat the shit out of him. but he's on Maxi's plot so ... To be continued.