Chapter 14

As I sat on the ground sweet talking Sphyncus through the crate door, Randi pulled the car around to the sidewalk and got out. Once the back door was open it was clear the crate wasn’t going to fit. There was a brief consideration given to one of us lifting the crate up to the open door while the other was in the backseat on the opposite side to open the cage door and coax her out, but it didn’t last long. As sweet as Sphyncus was, she was still a wild dog from the streets. We didn’t know how she would handle being unsecured in a moving vehicle with total strangers. Leaving her in the crate was the best arrangement. We just had to get the damn thing through the door.

Randi’s car was a 2007 Toyota Yaris. Not tiny but still small. Sphyncus didn’t weigh a lot, I guessed around 20 pounds, but the crate was big and too awkward for one person to pick up. The plan was to pick it up together, set the edge of the crate on the edge of the seat, and then try to shove it in, all while keeping Sphyncus calm inside. We got as far as setting the edge of the crate on the edge of the seat, but the crate wouldn’t budge through the door. I pushed and pushed but it was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Sphyncus stayed relatively relaxed throughout the whole thing, but she shifted her weight frequently, trying to stay on her feet adding to the difficulties we were already having.

I stood there balancing my end of the crate against my legs and stomach while the other end rested against the edge of the backseat. “Well. What should we do?”

“Think we should just leave it?” Randi asked. “I mean, I know it would be safer with her in there, but it’s not gonna fit.”

“You know, that would be funny,” I responded. “Just drive off and leave it in the middle of the parking lot with that fucked up address label still on there. Almost like a final taunt for putting us through so much hell.” Randi laughed, but I thought real hard about it. I lifted the crate up higher, about 8 inches above the seat where the opening into the car was just a little bit wider, and started pushing as hard as I could while rocking the crate back and forth.

“I didn’t pay for this crate just to leave it in the parking lot,” I grunted as I attempted to force it in. “It’s going in the car even if I have to take the fucking thing apart.” I angled it a little bit, throwing Sphyncus off balance in the process, and the sides finally squeezed in. It was hanging there in the air from the pressure of the door frame on each side with the end still balanced against me. Randi ran around and got in from the other side to help pull. Despite having to ram the crate through the door like we were soldiers busting down a castle gate, once it was dangling inside we were extremely cautious while setting it down. It was as if Sphyncus was a pharaoh in her sedan chair and we didn’t want to risk disturbing her, lest we be punished. My new baladi queen was going to have every historical Egyptian stereotype applied to her as often as possible.

We hit the road looking for any place we could stop that had an ample amount of grass so Sphyncus could finally get out of the crate and stretch her legs. The windows were rolled up with the air conditioner on. Sealed up inside the car with no outside air blowing in, it didn’t take long to get a good smell of the stink coming off Sphyncus. She was Stinkus.

The smell didn’t bother her, though. She stood in the crate looking about curiously, no whimpering or whining or barking. It was almost shocking how calm she was. After a few miles, we came upon a gas station with a nice lawn that had a tree line going down the side. Perfect. The world traveling dog would be free at last.

Randi pulled the car over by a curb and we started the delicate process of getting our Egyptian dog’s feet on American soil for the first time. I handed her the camera to roll video again, then opened the back door on the passenger side where the crate door was facing. As I pressed the unlocking mechanism it hit me that I was about to touch this dog again. This dog that had caused me so much stress and emotional trauma two months prior was about to be in my arms. The last time I had pet Sphyncus she was laying on her back in the dirt a few feet away from Haram Street. Cars were honking nonstop, it was dark from the blackout, and I had just spent an hour trying to convince her to trust me. A woman and an officer stood nearby questioning my motives. A few minutes later I would walk away from her and her sad eyes for what I thought would be forever.

Thankfully, ESMA had put a collar on her. All I had to do was hook the leash up as fast as I could, just in case she tried to spring out past me. ‘Here we go,’ I thought to myself as I worked up the nerve to open the crate door. With lighting speed, I clasped the leash to the collar and reached for her. She retreated to the back of the crate, tail still whipping up against the inside walls and a big smile on her face. Okay, at least I wasn’t the only one nervous to make contact again. I was concerned that maybe she didn’t remember me after all. I looked over at Randi who had the camera rolling, ready to ask her for suggestions on how to convince our new pup to step out.

Sphyncus came forward and licked me on the forehead. My heart melted. I turned to face her and she continued licking my head and nose. Either she did remember me or she was just happy to have a friendly person around paying attention to her. It didn’t matter. She was happy and with her family, that’s what was important. I scratched her head and reached to grab her. Her front legs stiffened up, planted firmly against the floor of the crate and the bottom lip of the door. She nervously resisted all efforts to get her out. She wasn’t backing up anymore, just standing her ground. I started sweet talking her again before finally getting my arms around her body, picking her up, and pulling her out. As soon as her feet touched the concrete, the helicopter tail started up followed by a whole body shake and her wiggle worm swivel move. I’ve never seen a dog smile like that before, pure happiness. There wasn’t a hint of that in Cairo. It was incredible to see.

We started making our way towards the grass and I noticed her acting funny. Her back would slightly arch up and she would bend her body to the right. The back-right leg would raise off the ground, almost like it would lock up sticking forward which caused her to hobble a little bit. After a few seconds, whatever it was worked itself out. This was different than the hobble she had had in Cairo. That was mostly front leg and this looked more back leg. A strange thing we would have to get checked out. It didn’t seem to bother her, more of a slight inconvenience while in motion but there didn’t appear to be any pain.

The concept of the leash didn’t seem completely foreign to her. She didn’t walk right next to me, but she seemed to understand what it was for and didn’t fight. I had to lead her where I wanted her to go, but she didn’t tug and wasn’t afraid at all.

Sphyncus stepped up onto the grass like an astronaut setting foot on a new planet; the terrain was totally new and unfamiliar. No matter, she peed almost instantly. I sat down on the grass with her and she just didn’t know what to do. Part of her looked like she wanted to just get loved on but another part wanted to keep moving since she’d been cooped up so long. After following her around for a few seconds, she flopped over on her back and stretched out with her head between my legs. Her tail swept across the grass over and over like a broom and she flashed her big alligator mouth smile at the camera while I scratched her belly. She was just so happy.

Sphyncus indulged herself in that grass for a while. I can’t even imagine being a dog that has only known cement and dirt, then experiencing grass for the first time. She had spent her entire life as a tennis player on hard and clay courts, but was now on the fresh green lawn at the center court of Wimbledon, basking in the sun while her adoring fans looked on. It had to be heaven.

Watching her like that for those few minutes made everything that had led up to it worthwhile. Seeing a dog, especially this one, in absolute bliss because of me was the greatest feeling in the world.

Eventually she got up to move about and sniff some more. I still had my hands on her when she rolled over and I felt something on my finger. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a little bit of poop. Eh. Nothing could ruin the moment, not even dog poop on my hand. The poor girl had been in that crate so long we knew she had messed in there. I wiped the poop on the grass and continued following Sphyncus around. You know you’re having the time of your life when you can just brush poop from your finger and move on.

A few minutes later, Sphyncus pooped and we saw some worms in it. Little white poop worms. I know worms are a pretty quick fix with medication but it would mean I couldn’t take Sphyncus to E-Style and Chewie right away. I was a little disappointed as I wanted to get my three amigos together to get them used to each other.

After a few more minutes exploring the new landscape Sphyncus looked to be rooting around for something to eat. It was time for her first American meal. With her ribs easily visible, it was going to take some time and work to fatten her up, but this was the beginning of taking on that challenge. We had bought her some organic wet food. I was advised by other baladi owners on Facebook that sometimes they have allergies to wheat so we jumped the gun a little bit and went straight to organic food without the fillers.

That dog probably would have eaten anything we put in front of her. She thoroughly massacred that can of food. Then, with food all over her nose, she picked up the lid of the can off the ground and tried to run off with it. It was hilarious and a sign of things to come with her scavenging nature, but we had to get that lid out of her mouth before she hurt herself.

I was a little apprehensive to take something out of her mouth. Despite how sweet she was I kept reminding myself that she was still a street dog that we had only just started interacting with. We needed to be careful. Like pretty much every time I was afraid to do something with Sphyncus, my fears turned out to be completely unfounded in regard to the can lid. She let us take it right from her without the slightest hint of the aggression you might expect from a wild dog protecting its meal.

The banging of nearby construction jolted her attention away from the food. I had learned about police in Egypt poisoning and shooting baladis right out in the open as horribly inhumane methods of controlling the stray animal population. Any sort of loud booming noise was probably an immediate alarm for the dogs that managed to survive the government-sanctioned killing sprees. The construction clanging had Sphyncus’s full and undivided attention. She didn’t start panicking at the sound, but she was entirely uncomfortable with it. None of my previous pets had ever been afraid of storms or fireworks, but something was telling me Sphyncus wasn’t going to be anything like any of my previous pets.

We let her stay out in the open grass for as long as she wanted, but when she started looking to explore further away we knew it was time to hit the road. A four-and-a-half-hour drive awaited us and we both had to work the next morning. Getting home with enough time to walk her and get her acclimated to the apartment was priority over investigating the property surrounding a random gas station in Atlanta.

Since Sphyncus hadn’t been any actual trouble at all with anything we needed her to do, I wasn’t too worried about trying to get her back into the crate. I scooped her up into my arms, set her front legs inside the door, and nudged her butt forward. Once inside the crate, she spun in a circle a couple of times then made a pitiful grunt as she laid down. We got back in the car and started the drive home to our new life together.

Next Chapter: Chapter 25