Locking down with a new roommate

When my roommate moved out last July, I wondered, "Should I look for someone new?" While I'd never wanted to live alone, I was a bit commitment-shy. I work mostly from home in general, a lot more people have been working from home because of Covid, and it seemed like an intense adjustment to be together 24/7. Since my rent is affordable, I decided to wait until I found someone I knew well.

Then lockdown started last month, and to my surprise, two days later a new roommate arrived. My first male one, at that!

As roommates go, he's been pretty easy. He's laid-back and social. He loves how I cook chicken, and he never complains if I leave dishes in the sink. He doesn't mind if I have work to do, but while he's the strong silent type, he's always up for spending time with me.

Yup, Agrippa is a great dog.

This wasn't my first time sitting for him, but it felt different. Previously, I've watched him at his owners' house while they went on vacation for a few days. This time, his new owner dropped him off at my house before heading to the US for a few months. She planned to leave him with another family I know, but discovered he had a fungal infection on his rear that was contagious to kids unless they washed their hands well. Understandably, with a 7-year-old who loves lying all over the dog, they were hesitant, so I agreed to take him until he recovered. Today, the first day lockdown was lifted, he moved over there (another surprise - I thought I had about a week left). 

On a Thursday four weeks ago, his owner asked me to watch him, the same day that we started a city-wide lockdown. On Saturday, outdoor exercise was banned. On Sunday, Agrippa arrived. On one hand, lockdown seemed like a perfect time for dog-sitting... he wouldn't be lonely and I wouldn't be away when he needed to be let out. On the other, I wasn't sure about this "no-exercise" thing. Agrippa has lived with foreigners all of his nearly five years. He's used to being walked mornings, afternoons, and (very briefly) evenings. And while my landlords later gave me a key to the rooftop for rainy days, Grip thought it was too clean to poop on.

But he loved being off-leash in an open area!

In Khmer culture, he's an anomaly, even though German Shepherd mixes are really common here. But Khmer dogs are usually tied up, locked inside a gate, or roaming free, not taken for walks. So I wasn't sure "I have to walk my dog" would count as an exception to the policy, and I wasn't sure I had an alternative. So I braved the streets with him, hoping that if I stuck with quiet streets close to home, wore a mask, and social distanced, I could get away with it. I soon discovered that...

1) The few police that passed us didn't care, and

2) Walking a dog is difficult when the neighbor dogs aren't used to it. 

Many dogs are raised to guard and protect their homes and owners, and they take this duty seriously, often chasing passersby well beyond the property line. It's one reason I don't like jogging alone (there's some safety in numbers) and am always ready to slow to a walk if I see a dog approaching me. One of my landlords' dogs feels this way even about people, and as a result is always separated from the renters by a chain-link fence. Last week he clawed a little boy, the great-nephew of his owners, who has lived on my side of this fence since before the dog was born. He barks at anything that moves. But intruder dogs are especially suspect, for him and for others in the neighborhood.

Soon my neighbor, the one whose son got clawed, gave me a stick. "Use this to help break up the dog fights," she told me. "Otherwise it's too dangerous to walk him by yourself." I felt empowered, but even with the stick, I was experiencing multiple adrenaline rushes (or "cardio bursts"?) per walk. I experimented with various streets near my house, but most of them had dogs that would try to attack Agrippa, and confrontations seemed inevitable when both ends of my block had pairs of aggressive dogs. Grip is great at staying calm to a point, but when they get too close, he'd lunge back at them or wriggle out of his collar, running off to safety. Would he ever engage in an all-out battle? I didn't think so, but I didn't want to find out. 

Then I tried the alley.

Looking back at my tall green building from the far side of the alley

By cutting through the alley next to my house, I could get to an adjacent street and continue on a loop where the few dogs soon left Agrippa in peace. I rarely jog or drive that way since the alley isn't paved, but it made our walks so much more enjoyable. 

Faithful greeters

We weren't the only ones who preferred this route. The kids in this alley had been missing a playful Golden Retriever, Mango, who moved away a week before Agrippa arrived. I made the mistake of telling them he was friendly and telling them "Wash your hands!" instead of just saying "Don't touch," and soon it was too late - they'd all rush up to him each afternoon, disregarding instructions. (At least they mostly avoided his infected rear.) I was so happy to get to know a few of the kids that I'd often seen playing in front of my building - I don't usually hang out there like Mango and his owners did. Within a couple weeks, they were telling me stories and giving me hugs. Teens were stopping us to ask questions about what he ate and how much he cost. One of the worst "culprits" was my downstairs neighbor's helper, whom I barely knew before Agrippa arrived. We'd get to the gate and she'd hold him hostage for several minutes of petting. It took forever to get past them and start our walks. I didn't really mind. In fact, I relished the idea that in lockdown of all times, I was connecting (however slightly) with all these new people. 

The helper and another downstairs neighbor coming to say hi...

... and to pick sour mangoes from the tree down below (why have I never done that?)

I've always heard that babies and dogs are a great way to start conversations on walks. It's true! All throughout our route, neighbors would stare and comment. "Yikes, he's so big!" "Does he bite?" A few picked up their children or backed away looking concerned. They were torn between responding to him as a threat (a large, unfamiliar German Shepherd approaching them) and as a novelty (a dog on a leash with a foreigner). I kept calling out, "Don't worry, he's gentle! He doesn't bite!" And gradually, they got used to us. 

One grandma would sit in her hammock out front with a grandson, telling him "Look at the dog!" Others taught me the word for "German Shepherd" and told me about their love for dogs, or asked me why I knew Khmer. Kids asked me, "What did he eat today?" and "Is he a police dog?" and "Does he need a leash because he was hit by a car?" Still others, complaining that "Agrippa" was a hard and unusual name (can you blame them?), found all kinds of ways to mangle it. They often settled on "Kiki," which is kind of like the middle syllable repeated, and a common way in Khmer to call a dog toward you. I even saw a few other dog walkers - not on the streets, but at the tiny park a half-mile away. I realized Khmer people had a broader range of attitudes toward dogs than I'd previously assumed. 

Meeting a friend's dog at the park

I wasn't sure how long it would take Agrippa to recover from his fungal infection. About ten days in, I took him to the vet, who said he was doing much better but needed to return in 2 weeks. I decided to do that follow-up appointment next Tuesday before passing him onto the next family. I didn't mind the extra time with him, though he didn't love being blown dry after his weekly baths (treatments for the fungus) and had a special knack for spitting out his pills no matter how well I buried them in chicken. 

We tuk-tuked through flooded streets and past police barricades to get to the vet

Walking Agrippa was less intense than my occasional HIIT workouts and twice-a-week jogs, but also more fun... and more consistent, so probably as good for me overall. Compared to driving or jogging, I had time to slow down and notice faces and flowers, puppies and produce vendors (forced to go mobile during lockdown). I discovered a beautiful, massive vegetable garden just 2 blocks away, and a small recycling center even closer, where some of Phnom Penh's poorest live and work. I always try to smile at the "Aichai" workers when they go by, but I never thought of them as my literal neighbors. Last week, when the government allowed exercise again, a neighbor from my building joined me on several walks. Across from the recycling center, a home/restaurant had a sign: "Mangoes, 1500 riel per kilo" (17 cents a pound). We sat and watched while a grandma and her grandkids picked 8 pounds of mangoes for us, as another granddaughter entertained her baby sister and laughed at Grip for drinking rainwater from a bucket.

Walking Agrippa led me straight into one of the biggest adventures I've had here, one that's still unfolding, which is the reason he left early. I'll probably post about that story soon. (Update: Here's the sequel!) But while most days with him weren't thrilling, he brought warm fuzzies to lockdown. Thanks, Grip!