Chronicles of my four-legged friends

I'm amazed at myself.

I have had this blog for nearly three years now and never have I dedicated a post to my favourite pet in the world!! :o 

Weeeell, I do have one post from 2012 where I wrote about my (late) brown-eyed German stud. I miss him so much. Here's a link to that story http://miapensamientos.blogspot.com/2012/01/teaching-old-dogs-new-tricks.html?spref=fb

Anywhooo...

In between the time I took to write this post, I came across an article in The Nairobian (yes, I read it). The article was about annoying habits Kenyans have online and one of them was that they post about their pets. The writer of that article was under the heavy opinion that all Kenyans who posted about their pets were being fake. He or she believes that Kenyans don't keep pets. Domestic livestock doesn't count. :P

I am Kenyan. Pure-bred, born and raised in this beautiful country of ours. There are pure-bred Kenyans like myself who have dogs or other pets that become a part of the family. My own grandfather always had dogs! Nobody in the village would dare step into his compound after the dogs were unleashed. Those things looked like wolves! They may have had husky blood, now that I think about it.

This is a husky.. Guka's dogs looked something like this.

 I got my first dog when I was around 9 years old I think. My mother got it for me partly to deal with the crippling fear I had for dogs at the time and the other part because we finally had the space. And so my first canine love was Snoopy, a cute but shy (like her owner) brown mongrel.

Snoopy may have not been the bravest dog (kinda reminds me of Courage the Cowardly Dog actually) but her loyalty was the kind people die for. She was afraid of loud sounds and of being away from us for too long. Yet whenever any of my family members would walk to the bus stop, a half-hour walk away, Snoopy would escort us there, against our orders. She would trot behind us, stop and cower when we'd yell, "Go back! Home!" Sometimes she would even turn as though she was going back home. However, the moment we would face forward, she'd follow us again. Once we would get on the matatu, Snoopy would immediately turn around and run home.
        At first I was worried she would get hit by a car or something on her way back home without us, but everytime I would come back home, she'd be there waiting. She helped me learn that dogs are not so scary once you get to know them. She got sick and passed away after my family moved house and couldn't keep her anymore. I still think she died of a broken heart.

My next dogs came in twos. We inherited Stella and Neo from my father's colleague. Now those were some HUGE dogs. It was not cowardly to be afraid of them at first sight; it was smart. At the time, my father drove a Toyota Prado. Stella and Neo's idea of welcoming you home was jumping up on their hind legs and looking into the Prado. Yes, that's how tall they were. They could actually look into the car when they stood. And I never really found out what breed they were, but they were definitely pure-bred of whatever that was.
Stella's coat was patterned black and white, sort of like the cows we used to look at in picture books as toddlers. Her son, Neo, was a beautiful jet-black dog. Those two were a formidable force to reckon with. They taught me the practicality of "not knowing your own strength".
Neo was lovable and playful; when he would see us skipping rope, he would come and jump over too. It was fun at first, until he would make it impossible for us to play at all! Stella was older, so she was more laid-back in her affection-showing behaviour. Towards the end of our time together, she got some kind of bone cancer. She was in so much pain that eventually the vet advised we put her down. Neo took a long time to get over her death. When she didn't come back from the vet, he sniffed the whole car and compound looking for her. He spent most of the following nights whining quietly to himself. And much later when he seemed to have forgotten her,  if someone mentioned her name, he would look up thinking she was around. As a thirteen year-old that was painful to watch. It taught me that animals process death pretty much the same way we try to as humans.
We moved house again and left Neo with our neighbour. Again, I was left feeling awful for leaving behind our dog, but I was just a child, I had no say in the matter.

Then came my German-stud, Leo. I got to experience a bit of his puppyhood; missed the rest 'cause of boarding school. My family gave him the name Leo because when he was a puppy, his paws grew faster than the rest of him. Mum said he looked like a lion. So he became Leo the lion :)

German Shepherd puppy

He looked something like this :D But he had a beauty spot on his face

Leo loved baths. He loved water. His favourite thing to do was pick up the hedgehogs that roamed around in our compound and carry them around in his mouth. I think he did it 'cause they reminded him of his ball. Leo never learnt how to fetch, despite his 'obedience training'. The ball game was always violent: throw the ball, Leo runs to get it then he runs around you while you try and snatch it from his mouth. And he would not make it easy for you to do that.

Perfectly describes how Leo behaved! LOL! 

Once more, our family moved house, but this time, my brother could stay with Leo. That didn't prevent him from falling sick though just like Snoopy and Stella. When they put him down, nobody wanted to tell me. Eventually, my mother found a way to tell me.
I called him my German stud because he was a pure-bred German shepherd and he had the most beautiful, intelligent brown eyes, not to mention a ridiculously wide smile when he opened his mouth.

Isn't that eye good to look at?

Last and not least, came Tiny. We thought Tiny would be good company for Leo. She was a mongrel -mixture of many different breeds. Tiny slept in my bed for the longest time as a puppy. She had large floppy ears in relation to her mousy face. Tiny was nothing but trouble. She took the longest to learn not to pee in the house. She and Leo did NOT get along well. Worst of all, she kept running away to be with her siblings (they were in the neighbourhood) and often took Leo with her. I'm sure Leo followed for her sake but still. It scared us everytime we would come home to find the gate ajar and dogs gone.

This was Tiny :)

One day Tiny ran away and we didn't find her. Eventually, our gardener told us that he had seen her with some other people who lived nearby. We decided to let them keep her.

Currently, I live in apartments that do not allow pets. When I move out, I'll probably end up in another apartment that does not allow pets. I'm not letting go of my dreams though. When I get the space and resources, I plan on having a Labrador and a German Shepherd. I want my children to learn how to live with animals; to be appreciative of the rest of nature. Thankfully, the man I am looking forward to marrying shares my dream. ;)

Here's to having pets, learning how to live with animals and appreciating nature.

Labrador Retrievers in their natural colours

 *All photos are courtesy of Google Images except that of Tiny.

Au Revoir

I first listened to this song on my iPod (the old-school first generation version) so I had no idea what the song was called. I just knew I totally loved it.

We all have those moments when we're not ourselves and those we love aren't either. Call them bad days, being 'under the weather', whatever you want to call them.
Point is, life happens. And that is what this song is about.

The violins make the perfect beginning for a song of this magnitude. Good job One Republic!

Today I'm not myself

And you you're someone else

And all these rules don't fit

And all that starts can quit

What a peculiar state we're in

What a peculiar state we're in

Let's play a game

Where all of the lives we lead 

Can change

Let's play a game

Where nothing that we can see

The same

We'll find other pieces to the puzzles

Slipping out under the locks

I can show you how many moves to checkmate right now

We can take apart this life we're building

And pack it up inside a box

All that really matters is we're doing it

Right now

Right now

Holy Ground

Courtesy of Google Images

I have never really liked the idea of shoes on my feet. For some reason, from when I was very young, I preferred to walk barefoot. It did not matter as much that the stones were hard or the ground was hot...if I could get away with it, I would walk barefoot. As a child, my mother would often send me to the kiosk. And every time, I would dash out of the house before she could stop me and force me to put on some shoes. The kiosk was never too far away, so not much damage was inflicted. Still, the number of times I got thorns in my feet! :o

Yet, I would still go barefoot whenever the opportunity presented itself. Somehow, by being barefoot, I felt like I was in better control of my body. I could run faster, cycle better and even navigate the path in a more confident manner. Eventually, as I 'grew up' and began to heed my mother's ceaseless orders that I "put on some shoes!", my barefoot adventures became less and less frequent.

What got me along this line of thought was a post a good friend of mine put up recently. She was talking about some of the things she loves. Since I want to do justice to her words, I will quote exactly what she said:

"I love being barefoot in the grass! (It's what I do when I'm nervous, angry or out of sorts.  Makes it all better) "

My friend's update reminded me that I often find myself doing the same thing when I am in grass. I'll take off my shoes and just let them sink into the grass. 

Courtesy of Google Images

Then I started thinking about the Bible story of Moses' encounter with the burning bush. For those not familiar with the story, this is basically what happened. 

A man named Moses was tending his sheep as he always did in a desert area. Everything seemed as it usually was, until he came across a bush that was on fire. His attention was drawn to the bush; not because it was burning, but because it was not being consumed by the fire. Now that's something you do not see everyday. So, of course Moses moved closer to the bush...probably to try figure out what exactly he was seeing. But as he got closer, the Bible says that the voice of the Lord spoke to him from the bush. 

 “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

(You can find the full story in Exodus Chapter 3)

Whenever I have heard this story being told, preached or shared, the manner in which it was told always gave me the impression that Moses was told to take off his sandals because they would 'dirtify' (for lack of a better word) the holy ground. However, when I started thinking about how much I love being barefoot; how it helps me feel one with nature; how there are others who feel the same as I do, I began to think that perhaps I got it wrong. 

What if, when God told Moses to take off his sandals, it was not because the ground was too holy to have shoes on it? What if, God told Moses to take off his sandals so that he could experience God with ALL his senses? I believe that God works through many things, including nature. And when we wear shoes, our connection with nature is interfered with. So it is possible, that God wanted to commune completely with Moses.

Now I'm not saying that shoes have no benefit at all. If that was the case, they would never have been invented in the first place. What I am saying is that once a while, it would do us all some good to take a walk barefoot. Be it in the grass, the sand, the water or even inside your house.

 I know that from now on, I will never judge or condemn myself when I do not feel like wearing shoes! 

Courtesy of Google Images

Courtesy of Google Images

Driver vs. Pedestrian

There seems to be an 'existence-long' feud between pedestrians and motorists. I've always wondered about it and it was not until I recently started driving that I began to understand. At least a little bit of it.

During the just-ended semester of school (I say 'just ended' because I'm currently on holiday, yay!), I would drive on two days of the week and use public transport/ walk for the remaining days.

I'm sure everyone who's ever driven in Nairobi knows how stressful it can get. Now picture a young lady (who looks like a teenager) driving a small, old Toyota Corolla. It's like driving around with a big sign saying, "Here, bully me! I'm a pushover."

As a pedestrian, I used to wonder why many drivers would not stop at a pedestrian's crossing, let alone think about it. Now, I'm not talking about when traffic has just been released by the policeman and all drivers are making a mad dash for it before the fateful raised hand traps them for another half hour.
No, I'm talking about normal traffic on a normal road, that has a clearly marked pedestrian's crossing. Whether the people who operate automobiles on our roads went to driving school or not, is a matter that is constantly under debate, at least in this city.
Even then, surely, doesn't common sense tell you that those white lines on the road mean something? Isn't there a voice in your head that says, "Hey, look, someone's crossing, maybe we should slow down and try not to kill them."

Then I started driving and I realised why drivers in Nairobi are always inching closer and closer to you as you try to cross the road. After sitting in snail-paced traffic for a while, free moving traffic is like a drug. It exhilarates you, makes you happy and you don't want it to stop. That literally means that you do not want to stop.

Then you come across some person walking across the road like its the widest thing they've ever crossed. And these are able-bodied, healthy-looking people who have no excuse to be crossing at the pace of a chameleon. On that note, have you ever seen a chameleon walking? It slowly raises its leg, then pauses with that leg still in the air, does some shaky-leg kind of dance before it eventually puts its leg down. You could pull out your hair if you are forced to watch a chameleon move from one spot to another.

So picture that frustration as a driver. This pedestrian forces you to slow down; takes away the high of the free-movement you had been enjoying. Then most likely, you find yourself crawling along again.

So what does the driver end up doing? Everytime they come across a pedestrian crossing, they zoom past, even when they can see that poor pedestrian stranded in the middle of a double lane.

Mentality in Kenya too

And what does the pedestrian end up doing? They time a car that looks like it may stop and they dangerously step onto the road, challenging the driver to run them over by looking them straight in the eye.
It doesn't always work. That's when we hear of the infamous hit-and-run accidents.

Ah, he sees me... I dare you to hit me! I dare you!

So I thought about it and I believe there's a way we can all make life easier for each other. These steps are not foolproof, neither will they bring world peace or anything like that, but they are helpful.

1) Follow the rules. And I mean ALL the rules
 It's that simple, yet not so simple at the same time. Yes, I know, contradictory. But if both pedestrians and drivers followed the rules, the roads would be a much kinder place. This includes keeping your eyes on the road, Drivers.

2) Pedestrians, cross the road quickly and with keen attention. 
This will preserve your life, literally.

3) Drivers, stopping for a few seconds to let someone pass won't kill you. 
If you're late, that's not anyone else's fault, so why make them pay for it?

4) Everyone, take it easy.
Life goes on, regardless of how bad a day you're having. You create the kind of day you have. So don't let all the road rage get to you.

I know this isn't easy. I'm still trying to apply my own steps in my own pedestrian-driver dilemma. But that's what life is about; creating and re-creating.

Have a safe time on the road :)

Conspiracy ~ Paramore

Please speak softly, for they will hear us
And they'll find out why we don't trust them
Speak up dear, 'cause I cannot hear you
I need to know why we don't trust them

Explain to me this conspiracy against me

And tell me how I've lost my power

Where can I turn? 'Cause I need something more
Surrounded by uncertainty, I'm so unsure
Tell me why I feel so alone
'Cause I need to know to whom do I owe

Explain to me this conspiracy against me

And tell me how I've lost my power

I thought that we'd make it
Because you said that we'd make it through
And when all security fails
Will you be there to help me through?

Explain to me this conspiracy against me

And tell me how I've lost my power

How?

How I've lost my power?

That thing called Faith

Mark 16:1-3

When the Sabbath was over, Mary

Magdalene, Mary the mother of James,

and Salome bought spices so that they

might go to anoint Jesus’ body.

 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb

 and they asked each other,“Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”

If you've never heard of this story, its in the Bible, right after Jesus was crucified and buried in the tomb. These three women, Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James and Salome were among those who had been following Jesus during this 3-year ministry.

If you have heard of this story, well then you know that although these women worried about that huge stone covering the tomb, they soon found out that the problem was sorted out for them.

I was reading this again recently and it struck me that, whether they knew it or not, Mary Magdalene, Mary and Salome exercised faith. Think about it for a moment...
These 3 women would have never been able to roll away that tombstone by themselves. Yet notice what they did. They went anyway.

They could've called some men to help them roll the stone away. They could've asked for more women to join them. Maybe then they would've been able to roll it away. Joint effort, you know?
But nope. They just went, ready to prepare Jesus' body.

It got me thinking, when I know I should do something, do I just go? Do I just do it? Or do I first plan everything in my mind...make sure I'm properly organised...have a solid plan, then go?





It takes a lot of faith to just get up and do, whether you're a Christian or not. So shouldn't it be easier for us who believe and profess Christ in our lives? We have something we believe in, something solid, as much as we may not see it. We're not just relying on ourselves. Therefore it should be easier for us to have faith. Should be. That doesn't mean that it always is.

The subject of faith is one that always brings one of my closest friends to mind. She amazes me by her faith. She does it literally; believing in what cannot be seen. And she does it not just once in a while, or when push comes to shove, but she does it everyday of her life.





I aspire to be like her. I aspire to be like Mary, Mary Magdalene and Salome. I aspire to be a woman of faith.

Men and compliments

A few days ago a man stopped me to tell me that I look good. Now I know all the ladies understand how this usually goes. Most men will smile suggestively or wink and give you a 'compliment' as they eye you like they want to devour you. "Eish msupaaa!!" is what you usually get as a young woman. What was different with this situation is that this man did not act as expected.

I was walking home after a long day, laden with house shopping. The sun was in my face, the paperbags were heavy and I was tired. So when this guy tried to stop me with an "Excuse me," sure enough, I ignored him. But he stopped walking and said,"Hi." I stopped too, thinking maybe he was someone I knew and just could not remember (trust me, it happens often enough). That's when he said,"You look good." And immediately, he walked away. I was so surprised that he had no other intentions that by the time I said thank you, he was too far to hear me.

I walked home smiling to myself and thinking how unusual that was. The man just complimented me and moved on. I even posted this situation as my Facebook status cause I found it refreshing (I was only going to tweet it, but Twitter was down at the time...lol).
I think this is how the world should be..people complimenting each other just to let them know, instead of using it as an opening statement to a 'hit-on'. Is that a word by the way? Hit-on?

So, this post is dedicated to all the men out there who can compliment complete female strangers without asking for more. And women, when a man does that, don't get caught up and start thinking he likes you. Such behaviour (when he was genuinely just giving you a compliment) is a sure way of making him never do it again!

Soo many books

Am I the only one who has been caught by surprise at how fast this year is moving? Things that happened in December (and I mean the last few days of December) seemed to have happened eons ago. And now it’s already the 6th day of March! Where are the days flying to?

When I think about why this subject bothers me so much, one of the things that comes to mind is a challenge I gave myself. You see, I love reading novels. Always have, always will. I read for many different reasons but the major one is to get out of my own life situation and into someone else’s. It’s pretty cool once you discover all that you can learn from reading about someone else’s life. In fact, sometimes you may find that what you read about addresses certain aspects of your life exactly. It may not necessarily be areas that you have ‘issues’ with…even everyday things you do can be related to the characters. So back to my challenge.

I joined a website called Goodreads which basically provides book lovers with an avenue where they can tally the books they've read, join discussions about their favourite books among other things. Goodreads provides an opportunity to any willing user to challenge themselves to reading a certain number of books in a year.  And as you've probably guessed by now, I decided to challenge myself with 55 books in one year. I assumed that it would be easy-peasy since I am a fast reader. However, I underestimated a couple of things:


1) The fact that I would drive to school at least twice a week, instead of taking a matatu. This automatically reduced the number of free hours I would have used to read my novels.
2) That my courses this semester would be more demanding than I anticipated.







And hence my current situation: an overload of assignments + required housework =less time to read books = me being 2 books behind my challenge.

*Sigh* I should actually be working on an assignment right now, not blogging. A friend of mine, Lulu, tried to tell me that I should just forget about this post and focus on my assignments, but I knew that I would not be able to concentrate until I'd let this out. Now that I'm done though, I suppose it is time to get to the assignments (Shout out to you, Lulu :) ).

What it means to travel by bus/matatu in Nairobi

I was rushing to class one evening, already late and looking for the bus that would leave sooner than later. And sure enough as I got to the Kencom bus stop, I saw a bus with its nose sticking out onto the road, its conductor standing on the last step holding out a finger, shouting, "Mmoja, Kawangware, Kawangware."

Happy that I had seen it, I started walking faster, all the while praying under my breath, "Lord please let them wait for me. Please don't let that bus leave me!" I had almost reached the bus when I saw another young lady approach the door. Disappointed, I slowed down, thinking to myself that I would now be properly late for my class. But then the lady stopped just at the door, exchanged a few words with the bus conductor and then stepped away. That was when I realised that I still had a chance to catch that bus! I walked quickly to the door. The lady was standing not too far off, but she did not seem sure about whether to get on the bus or not. So I got on and immediately (just like they always do) the bus pulled away.

The conductor pointed out one of the seats in the front and I almost smiled at the turn of events. I had gotten a bus that was leaving immediately and now I did not have to sit at the back! I was overjoyed! I should have known that there was a reason that seat in between two ladies was empty.

From the moment I sat down, I noticed that the lady seated on my right looked a bit....umm, how I do I put it? Unusual. I gave her a quick look over and the first thing that hit me was not even her clothes. It was the smell. Immediately I turned my face away, trying not to make a face as I did so. The woman on my left looked at me, gave a nod in the direction of the 'smelly lady' and wrinkled her nose. That's when it hit me that she knew I was fighting against the smell. AND, to make matters even worse, she had knowingly left that seat empty so that some poor sucker (who turned out to be me) would be the one to suffer the smell. I was so angry at myself at being late and thereby being desperate for a bus which had led me to the situation I was in now. But what could be done? I truly was desperate. Otherwise I would have found some way to get off the bus. So that left me with only one option: grit my teeth and bear it.

I'm not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but the smelly woman had her window open. So I guess it worked both to our advantage and disadvantage. The advantageous aspect of it was that her smell was not engulfing the whole row of seats. The disadvantage, I'm sure you can guess it. Every time the breeze blew in, it carried that smell with it. I looked for so many different ways to distract myself that I even started trying to identify that smell.

It was not sharp like ammonia or acidic like sulphuric acid. In fact it was almost bearable, if you did not inhale too much of it that is..

It hit me (pun intended) what it smelt like. Musty plastic. Like a paper bag that held wet clothes for a really, really long time. 

Well, that's what you get when you travel by public transport.