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Pets

Puti, sketch on paper.

Puti, sketch on paper.

Senhor Michael Angelo (Angelo)

Senhor Michael Angelo (Angelo)

Senhor Leonardo da Vinci (Vinci)

Senhor Leonardo da Vinci (Vinci)

Dogs in my life

We can all divide our lives into groups or periods. Segments, if you prefer that description.

 

Example, I can list my life periods into the planes I flew in as a passenger, that is simple.

 

First the Dakota, then the Grumman, then the Constellation and Super Constellation, then the Fokker Friendship (F27) and now the Jumbo.

What next ? A spaceship to the moon ? Doubt it as it's far to cold up there.

And they don't allow dogs, or cats, only lunatics. And Americans of course.

Puti, sketch on paper

But sitting in my very comfortable chair in my head looking out the two 'windows' or eyes, I am looking at my life now in these separate periods. Be it planes, or lovers or favourite colours or dogs.

At the back of my head is the room full of books and the hundreds of librarians working for me full time, poor buggers.

But this is the 21th Century.

Now I have next to the chair in my head a table with a laptop connected to Google. So what the fellows at the back cannot find, Google will for sure.

 

I have made up my mind. Today I'll divide my life into the periods of the dogs I had. By it's nature, the fact that we live longer, it ends up nearly always with a tear or two.

 

1950

In memory of Puti

Anyway. Our first dog was in Indonesia, in Djakarta, just renamed after being called Batavia for a few centuries. My sister Johanna, now in Heaven, was born in Batavia.

 

It was a sweet little white dog aptly called Puti, Indonesian for white.

But one day Puti came home frothing at the mouth and the servants were throwing buckets of water at him so he'd not bite them.

 

Mad and sad as it was I can still see it as if it happened yesterday. I would have been 5 years old.

My father was there, thank God, and he had to take matters in hand. And in hand he did. He caught little Puti and had to strangle him.

The photo of a stuffed dog, here on the right,  is in honour of Puti.

A vet took out Puti's brain and sent it to Bandung, where the Pasteur's Institute was, and after a short while we got the message it was 'positive' and that doesn't mean good but that is was indeed rabies.

So next thing we all flew to Bandung where for two weeks we got the most horrific injections in our stomach.

One day in the left side and the next day the right side of my tummy and so on. Every day I tried to hide in the hotel but a hand would soon drag me from under a bed or out of a wardrobe.

I had to sit on the lap of a nurse and she locked me in with her legs and held my arms back and my naked tummy was punctured again and again, and again, so it seems. We then had to run around a field to get the serum in one's blood I imagine and then I fainted as I was slightly allergic to the stuff. Or it was simply too much for a little kid.

Biki in Terena

Biki in Terena

11 y/o Paul with Danny in 1956

11 y/o Paul with Danny in 1956

Danny with stick, 1958

Danny with stick, 1958

In honour of Puti, my first dog.

In honour of Puti, my first dog.

pussy and Teddy: Where are they?

pussy and Teddy: Where are they?
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