In which a new pup joins the pack.
It's all about the alpha. Whether you live in metropolitan boardrooms or in the wilds of... let's say "Kokshetau," you quickly get to know the leader of the pack.
At home in Kansas City, it's Murray, the devilish little terrier staring down Owen in the picture at left. He dictates when we get up in the morning, where we go for walks and, to a certain extent, how much we eat for dinner. (He's reasonably generous with the latter which explains why I have to give away my suits to guys in the Peace Corps.) He celebrates his birthday today and has convinced his grandparents to take him out for a hamburger.
That's certainly better than we're doing!
Here, as you may have guessed, the title of Pack Leader falls to young master Owen. We're anticipating he and Murray will have a bit of a show down when we return to the States. As a prelude, Owen faced his first challenger to Man of the Hour today when young Reid McCall arrived.
After a successful court hearing (congratulations!) the McCalls brought their little boy back to the cottage and introduced him to Captain O. There was a little exploratory toy tasting and the occasional grab for one set of ears or another, but ultimately they came to an agreeable conclusion:
Why have one alpha when you can have two?
Yes, they collaborated. Reid demonstrated the appropriate howl for being picked up. Owen observed. "I say, Old Chap. That was brilliant! Mind if I give it a go?" Faster than you can say earplugs both boys had saddled their respective pack mules and were taking guided tours of the cottage.
They're also teaching each other to demand better meals. Both boys adamantly turned aside their bottles. Bring us the good stuff! (For Owen, the good stuff is pears. Think technicolor diaper.)
Anyway, it's been a regular Puppeteers' Convention.
We don't mind so much. In fact, we've kind of missed being bossed around by our sebaccas and koshkos (dogs and cats). It just feels wrong somehow to eat the whole sandwich by yourself. Which, of course, is why we take a huge pile of scraps nightly to the neighborhood beasts.
Kokshetau fairly swarms with animal life. Packs of dogs merrily roam the streets, cats dart for cover and flocks of birds gather in windows for the heat. As a visitor to the Green Market and eater of horses, I'll attest to the fact that the Kazakhs conspicuously lack PETA representation. That said, none of the critters seem underfed.
The Peace Corps boys tell us that most of the beasties on the streets are actual pets. Apparently it is common practice to turn your animals out in the morning and not let them back in until later in the evening. In between, the packs have the run of the city.
Like the horses, the dogs are mostly small. You do occasionally see a big german shepherd type wandering the streets. (Today, in fact, I saw one carrying his mistress's groceries! Sadly I wasn't quick enough on the draw with the camera.) Also like the horses, they all have really thick, heavy pelts.
I cannot prove it, but I suspect the slow ones end up as hats.
As we enter into our last week of isolation, we're counting down the hours until we can introduce Owen to his new herd. I'm sure he'll be begging scraps off the table in no time. Before then, a few tasks:
We'll pick up Owen's new birth certificate tomorrow. It will be written in Russian, so huge fun when we sign him up for kindergarten. On Sunday, we re-board the flying oven and head back to Almaty. (There are rumours of cheeseburgers in the big city. We can't wait!) We pick up his passport and visa on the 23rd and have visits to the embassy and doctor after that.
Where will we find the time?
