Scary running feet

This week I met our family dogs, one a hulking beast with gray and white fur the size of a small couch and a second smaller red mutt that looks like a cross between a fox and a hyena. My initial hesitation (I won’t say terror) of the local dogs was partially influenced by the fact that until two days ago even the family pet guard dogs pulled at their chains barking and growling whenever I came near. Then during a recent bout of gastric insurrection (Colonial Pepto Bismol is on the case and the separatists should shortly be under control) I went out at night to our cement hole outhouse and the dogs were off their chains. I had a momentary surge of sympathy for deer in front of semi-trucks as I stood at the door regarding Garagol (the cough-sized one) with the moonlight reflecting off his impressive canines. He came forward slowly and my hand tightened on the door knob. The story about the guy who was medically separated due to dog mauling came into my mind (PC has lots of stories) and then Garagol began nuzzling my leg and we came to a quick understanding: so long as he acts like a big sweaty then I’ll perform my duties as the only human in miles who knows how to properly pat his head. We’re good friends now and when a strange dog came into the courtyard yesterday while I was in the outhouse, Garagol nearly killed it in his enthusiasm to protect me.

Yesterday was the first rain and it took us all by surprise. After nearly two weeks of high 80s and mid 90s, suddenly we awoke to 50s and a semi-downpour. Of course none of us dressed for it so we complained of cold and numb extremities the day after we complained of melting. Our poor Turkmen teacher threw up her hands at us never being satisfied, but, eh, if rain is the worst thing happening to us. . .

Next week is a challenging break from routine as we hold our own Extra Curricular Activity (not a “camp” due to Russian connotations, although it will last three days from 9:00am-1:00pm with the usual “camp”-like activities). I’m in charge of music – imagine a lot of “I’m A Little Teapot” and explaining the “hokey pokey” without the use of a shared language – and Linda’s doing English games and the fellas, Thomas and Dan, are handling sports and arts. With an hour of planning and almost no materials except for some balls and the school space, I expect barely controlled chaos held at bay with our toddler-quality Turkmen vocabulary. I don’t think the horror film genre has fully utilized yet the scariness of large groups of bored children you can’t talk to. Fun ahead.