Chapter 4. Dogs.
We had a sad day today. Flotsam had a
bad fight with
the nasty dogs next door.
(Jan’s letter home Jan 98)
Dogs featured a lot in our daily life. Many Libyans kept one or more - the larger and fiercer the better - as they were usually for guard purposes. These were often chained up on the roof for some reason. I think they were kept up there when the family was home during the day and let loose in the yard at night. Maybe I'm being a little uncharitable, but I don't think the dog differentiated too much between a family member and a stranger.
I know that the dogs we owned would never accept a visitor if he was any sort of Middle Easterner, but were quite happy with a Westerner. Not many Libyans could be bothered with pets just for the sake of having one and in fact treated their animals atrociously.
A cartoonists view of Libyan dogs
Consequentially many dogs were turned loose when no longer useful, these eventually formed packs which roamed the outskirts of the city. They were not too much trouble and in fact some of them were quite magnificent animals with a great variety of shapes and colours. They were collectively known as Libyan Pi dogs.
One pack congregated in a far corner of the open area just outside our Villa. Sometimes in the evening they would prowl around and if I was feeling particularly brave, or foolish as Jan would say, I would go to meet them, the leader would snarl and growl, but all I had to do was bend down and pick up a rock or pretend to and they would all back off. Simple pleasures can be found at any time.
The city council periodically had a purge on the wild dogs, not least because rabies was endemic in Libya. They did this in their usual straightforward way by simply sending a crew of men and a truck out on the streets, some of the men were armed with .22 rifles, the rest were armed with pitchforks.
The riflemen shot any stray dog they came across, the pitchfork men tossed the resulting body into the truck. I have no doubt that the above operation was advertised in the media, so people could keep their animals safe. However, expat's didn't read the papers or listen to the radio so had no idea what was happening.
One Russian ladies beloved pet, a small Pekinese or some such, happened to be outside her villa. She heard a shot and looked out in time to see her Peke being pitch forked into the truck. She rushed out in hysterics and persuaded the crew to give her back her dog. It was still alive and in fact made a complete recovery.
Flotsam
Not long after we first moved in to our original villa we came home from an outing in the late evening and found a surprise waiting for us. Guy and Anna raced along the path and nearly tripped over two puppies lying together shivering on the steps to the patio. One was black and the other white and only a few weeks old. Close inspection showed they were healthy enough but covered with fleas, so they were promptly washed and disinfected, then fed and put in a box for the night.
Next day of course the children fell in love with them both, as they were undoubtedly the cutest wee things. Well! How could we get rid of them? We named them Flotsam and Jetsam the latter being the black one. Unfortunately Jetsam though he seemed to thrive at first, became sick and eventually died.
Flotsam however had no problems and eventually grew to be very large and very friendly dog. He became part of the family and made the outside area his own. So much so that he was reluctant to share it with half a dozen hens that we bought for use when meat became in short supply.
The hens were penned in a corner of the back yard, and all was well for a time. However, one day when he was home alone the hens must have got out. The temptation must have been too much for him because when we came home, he was sitting there wagging his tail and looking quite pleased with himself. The six chooks all neatly killed and laid out in a row by the front path.
Jan Guy Anna Flotsam at second villa
Flotsams end came rather unexpectedly. One of our neighbours was a French couple whom we really did not know very well. They had two dogs, which were quite fierce and were usually kept chained up just over the low stone wall that divided the two properties. Sometimes one of the dogs used to run free, and at times jumped over the wall into our yard. If Jan or I we were around we would grab a stick and chase him back to his own place.
This particular afternoon Flotsam was asleep in the shade and next doors dog came to visit, Jan saw him and rushed out to chase him back . If Flotsam had spotted him a fight would have ensued with Flotsam would almost certainly coming off second best.
Jan picked up a handy stick and brandishing this persuaded our visitor to hop smartly back over the fence. To reinforce the message Jan threw the stick at him.
At this moment, Flotsam wandered round the corner and saw this last action. "Ah my favourite game, fetch the stick"!
Without hesitation he went after it, leaping the wall in fine style. Flotsam had never been noted as being particularly brainy. Poor Flotsam hadn't a chance, the two dogs set on him, there was great uproar. Pierre rushed out and separated the combatants, but to late, by then Flotsam had been badly mauled.
I arrived home about this time and took Flotsam to the only Vet’ I knew, a Pakistani. He examined Flotsam and found beside numerous bite marks, that his chest had been virtually ripped open. The Vet wasn't too happy about it, he said that he did not have the facilities to do a good job of repairing him, and if he tried, the chance of recovery was very slim. The best thing would be to put him down.
So sadly that was done, he was given an injection that stopped his heart and he went peacefully. I like to think the three and a half years he had with us were happy ones and better then the lives of the usual run of Libyan dogs.
As it turned out Flotsam was avenged. One of the same next door dogs, took to roaming about the neighbourhood and was making itself a thorough nuisance, in fact it had attacked a ten year old boy and bitten him badly enough to draw blood.
The boy was the son of one of our English friends who, not surprisingly, was quite upset at what had happened. Particularly as the boy had to undergo a course of anti-rabies treatment. This was because the French couple could not produce a certificate to show the dog was clear of rabies. All dogs were supposed to be checked for rabies at regular intervals and a certificate issued to show the animal was not a carrier.
The anti-rabies treatment meant injections into the stomach for 12 consecutive days, very very unpleasant for the boy.
Bill our English friend called round soon after the incident and asked me if I would poison the dogs next door, he really was upset, as in fact so were many other people. I was not too happy about this, not about poisoning the dogs, they deserved it, but I had to live next door to Pierre and if he suspected me of doing the deed, international relationships would become very strained indeed.
I explained this to Bill, at least if I were to be suspected, I wanted to be able to truthfully say it was not me. Bill understood this and went away to think about it . He turned up again the next night with another friend Ernie, and with a plot hatched. The idea was that Jan and I would hold a small party to which they would come and during the night when the chance came they would do the deed.
Several night's later we invited a few people for dinner including our two conspirators, they duly arrived, Bill patted his pocket significantly and said " I've got it', meaning doses of strychnine wrapped in pieces of meat.
Later that evening, after some inroads were made into my homebrew supply, Bill looked at Ernie and nodded at the door. No words were said as they slipped quietly outside. They came back a few minutes later, still nothing was said, but they looked pleased with themselves.
Next day I saw Pierre in his yard, I wandered innocently over to the garden wall and sure enough, one of the dogs was dead. A puzzled Pierre said "my dog he die". I commiserated with him and asked him how the other dog was. " she OK" he said, and that was that.
Apparently, only the one dog had eaten the poisoned meat and Pierre had no suspicion that it had died of other than natural causes.
Nigel our second dog
It so happened that the remaining dog also met its end in a rather dramatic fashion. I was away in Kufra at the time so Jan had to cope with what happened herself. Late one afternoon when everything was quiet a gunshot rang out!
This gave Jan one hell of a fright as a gun going off could mean anything. She rushed outside and there, over the garden wall was Pierre standing over a very dead dog. Apparently the dog had turned really nasty and attacked him, maybe she was missing her mate!
Anyway, Pierre not having any of this grabbed a pistol that he had inside and dispatched his remaining dog. The police arrived smartly and came to our gate. Jan was having nothing of all this and directed them next door.
Nothing ever happened to Pierre, which rather surprised us as we wondered how come Pierre had a gun in the first place. It remained one of the many little mysteries we encountered in Libya.
To round off the dog saga, some time later we acquired Nigel the dog of the English couple next door, who were returning to England. This was ideal as Nigel was well used to the children and was a very well behaved dog. He fitted in well with us and stayed with us until we left Benghazi a couple of years later
Next page. Chapter 5 Daily living