Monday, July 19, 2010

Jessy the Mad Dog Becomes A Thief

So, Jessy the Mad Dog--you know, the dog who bit me, also known as the Israeli Settler who became a Palestinian--has become a thief.

A few months back we took her to the Grumpy Jewish Vet in Jerusalem because she had had a rash on her belly for a long period of time. She wouldn't stop itching and licking and none of the pills we gave her made her any better.

It was a long way going there, to the Grumpy Vet in Jerusalem. Jessy is, as previously mentioned, a little mad and bites everyone she doesn't live with, so we can't send her in a car to go alone and meet us there.

Why would you? She's a dog.

Well, if you're Palestinian from the occupied West Bank, you're not allowed to go to occupied Jerusalem without a special permit from the Israeli authorities, and even if you do have this permit, you're not allowed to go by car. You have to walk through Qalandia Check Point and you're not allowed to take a dog. Of course.



So we had to send Jessy in a car. But like I said, we couldn't send her alone, and since I'm the only one with a foreign passport (who can therefore go to Jerusalem in a car) that Jessy doesn't bite on sight, I had to take her. But since I can't control or carry Jessy alone (the importance of which will become clear in the next sentence), Tarek had to meet up with us on the other side before we went to the Grumpy Vet.

Because Jessy doesn't like the Grumpy Jewish Vet. She hates him. She won't go near his clinic unless dragged, pulled and carried over the threshold.

This is what we did. Twice in one week. And Jessy was super pissed off at us and wouldn't talk to us for two weeks.

We had betrayed her. Twice.

On top of that, the Vet told us she has a food allergy and that we can't give her anything except the special dog food he sold us for a lot of money. This meant that Jessy would no longer get chicken especially cooked for her, barbecue leftovers, or pieces of bread from us when we were eating.

This was too much for her little dog heart, and she not only didn't talk to us, she got depressed. She just lay in her corner on the couch facing the cushion for days. She wouldn't go out and run with me, she wouldn't go out and walk, she wouldn't eat her expensive dog food, she didn't come and meet us at the door when we came home.

We had betrayed her. Again.

It gradually became better, though. The rash went away, and feeling confident that it was the chicken that had caused her rash, we started giving her small pieces of bread again at the dinner table. And at the breakfast table, and at the lunch table (all of which are, incidentally, the same table). Before we knew it, Jessy got up from her couch corner, and things were back to normal.

Or so we thought.

But it turns out that underneath all of that white fluffy fur she harbors a deep, dark secret.

She can't forget about the chicken.

She must have been dreaming about it. It must have consumed her. The desire. The longing. For that sweet, sweet chicken.

So on Wednesday when we had a barbecue in the garden with people from outside, and we had left Jessy in the house in order not to have any unfortunate biting accidents, the desire had finally burned a hole in her self-control.

We didn't know it at first.

Twice, Tarek went inside to get something and found a piece of half-eaten chicken on the floor. Twice, he came out and asked us who had given Jessy food, blamed his father and yelled at him a little.

Then Tarek went in for a third time, and lo and behold! There was Jessy, on her hind legs, thieving grilled chicken off the kitchen table!

We scolded her, but couldn't help but feeling guilty. After all, if we hadn't taken chicken off her menu, she wouldn't have been forced into this new habit.

Yes, habit. The other day when we were watching TV, I turned my head just in time to see Jessy snatching meat leftovers from Tarek's dinner plate on the coffee table.

Jessy. The dog who would never have stooped so low as to steal food, has become a Chicken Thief.


I guess desires left unfulfilled will eat away at your character.


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4 comments:

Bo said...

Ha ha! You need Cesar Millan. And maybe paste the chicken with chili paste in the meantime. Or stop eating chicken!

Ruby said...

Heeeey, I don't eat chicken. I'm a super strict vegetarian! But you can tell my bf to stop. :)

Mirja said...

Haha, well u can't blame the poor dog. Her first years she was living with the greatest thieves EVER!!! ( I don't mean greatest as in good, wow-- great! I mean greatest as in big, huge effing thieves-- the type that steal other peoples country. Anyhow, u catch my drift.

Bo said...

I just saw the video. CUTENESS!