Alikako!

Alikako - my dog! 

Okay, so not my dog. But I've kind of unofficially adopted her, so she feels mine. I know the YAGM guidelines said not to adopt any children, but there was no mention of animals..... ;) 

Animals here are treated very differently than they are in the U.S., where we spoil our furry friends and treat them almost as if they are human too, a part of the family. In Madagascar, it is unusual to see dogs being kept as pets. Dogs are literally everywhere here, but they're almost always strays. As a self-professed animal lover, it is heartbreaking to see so many unwanted, unloved animals running around the street with skin stretched taught over ribs and spines, covered in dirt and fleas, with open wounds and obvious injuries from cars. 

Side note, a lot of what I just said in regards to the dogs also applies to people and children here in Madagascar, and that's even more heartbreaking to see...

For the moment, however, I am going to focus on "my dog". Not many people keep pets around here (honestly, it's just too expensive) and if they do, "pet" means something different than it does in America. My host family has two pet dogs that are hardly ever seen (though they most certainly are heard)- they stay outside, in their own pen apart from the house. 

One, Shika, is my favorite. (Shhhh, don't tell Soky.....) She's a little white mutt with the cutest ears ever that perk up when she's listening; she is less skittish of people than Soky, the gray dog.

She reminds me a lot of my dogs at home. 

This is Kessie.......

And this is Tinkerbelle. 

They're pretty spoiled. 

I may have thought about packing them in my suitcase and smuggling them to Madagascar. 

I've loved dogs since I was kid- might had a slightly unhealthy obsession, actually...

On one of my worse weeks here in Madagascar, I was struggling to just feel okay in this new place. Everything is so drastically different, and some days, all of the change is just too much for my brain to handle. On top of all that, it was Christmastime and I was miserably sick for multiple days with some kind of bacteria that was kicking my butt. This particular day when I went to dinner, a little white furball came charging straight at me from under the table. I almost lost it right then and there, but kept it together until after dinner- when I promptly sat on the floor and cried a little with joy when the little dog jumped right into my lap. We sat there for 45 minutes, while everyone cleaned around us. Finally, Nono (the sweetest man ever, who looks after the animals) managed to get across to me in my limited Malagasy skills that it was time for the dog to go back outside. I must have looked heartbroken, because after he called Shika to him, he kept telling me "Rahamptiso, rahamptiso. Maraina, rahamptiso maraina." Tomorrow, tomorrow morning. 

And sure enough, the next morning, when I got up for breakfast, there was the little white dog waiting under the table for me. 

I never ate so fast in my life. 

After breakfast, I sat on the floor again with Shika in my lap for a half hour. And then I tried something that the sensible adult in me sighs at a little- I asked the dog if I could pick her up, and then proceeded to slowly try it. 

Note to those at home- DO NOT TRY THIS WITH STRANGE DOGS. I'm a very, very bad example. 

She was a little uncertain, but almost immediately calmed down. Maybe she could tell I needed this, or maybe she had been held before, or heck, maybe God calmed the dog down. I don't know. But what I do know is that this sweet little dog let me hold her like a baby for close to an hour and a half. We paced some, we stood outside some, and we sat on the stairs while she slept in my arms. And even though I knew she had fleas, and she stunk to high heaven, and was so dirty that my hands came away black if I pet her for too long, I couldn't help but cuddle her and cry into her fur. It was just something so painfully familiar in the midst of all the different, it just about broke me with happiness.