There are a lot of dogs in Bali. 99% of them roam free and have no "owner". They eat out of the garbage and hang out in gangs. During the day they are nice, but at night they seem to turn wild and I don't trust them after dark. It seems like they get an attitude and think they own the place. Rabies is a problem in Bali and there is a campaign to get dogs vaccinated. Dogs that have had their shots wear a red ribbon on their necks.
About a month after I moved in to my Bali house in the village of Laplapan, I come home one night to find a little scrawny puppy sitting on my doorstep. When I approach, he growls at me, but I can tell it is a growl of fear. I shoo him away and don't think about him until the next night when he is there again. Again he growls and again I shoo.
A few days later, he is in my house. He has gotten in through a hole in the fence, and since the house is open on the inside, he is in the living room. He sits and stares at me with his pitiful little face. He is so skinny and dirty and so malnourished that he doesn't have any hair. He looks like one of those hairless chihuahua pups. I talk to him and ask him where he's been. He doesn't answer. I get him some water and when I get near, he runs away. I can tell he has been beaten and is scared to death of humans. I leave the water for him and later I see that the bowl is empty. He comes day after day and sits. I feed him a few scraps but hesitate to give him too much because he cannot stay.
He lays there day after day getting skinnier and skinnier. I consider calling him "Gandhi" but decide to call him "Nyepi" after the silent holiday here in Bali, on which day he arrived at my door.
I realize I cannot sit and watch this dog wither in front of me so start to feed him some eggs and eventually break down and by some dog food at the market. Dog food is very expensive here, since there is no great need for it.
Soon, there is a thriving, happy puppy living with me. He is delightful and full of puppy life. He runs and jumps and playfully bites and frolics with the 3 year old daughter of the woman who cleans the house. He is a joy, but the whole time I am feeling a little uneasy about having Nyepi there because it's not my house and I don't want to leave him for the owner of the home after I move out.
As Nyepi grows and gets his energy, he becomes a real puppy and begins to chew on the the furniture and tear holes in the cushions. This feels like a final straw for me and I know I have to keep him outside. I have Sari come to repair the hole in the fence and put him out. Oh, the wailing and the crying..... He was totally incensed and cries and paws at the door. He could not believe what was happening in his little puppy world.
I continue to feed him outside but not as much. He stays by the front door and his little puppy friends come to play. I am amazed as I watch him interact and play and cannot believe the difference between him and his friends. They are all so unhealthy and full of fleas and bugs and have little fur. He is healthy and gorgeous.
After about two weeks of being outside, Nyepi is gone one day. I watch for him, but he doesn't return. I feel a mix and sadness and gladness about this turn of events. I am hoping that he has gone back to his mother and his dog friends in his own neighborhood.
One day, Sari asks me about the puppy. I tell him he is gone, and Sari shows a knowing, slight smile. "I think someone has taken him" he says. "Oh, great. Someone has taken him to live with them?" "No." Sari says, "someone has taken him to the temple". There are a few moments of silence as the reality of what he says sinks into me. My stomach drops. It feels like a punch with a big fist. Someone has taken him for a sacrifice, a practice that is still very much in use in Bali today as it has been for hundreds of years. Sari sees the horror on my face and he soothes me. "Please don't worry. This is very good karma for the puppy. He will come back as a human in the next life. This is a good thing."
I am still grappling with this experience and my feelings about it. It seems so terrible, but who am I to judge other cultures and the things they believe in, no matter how wrong they may seem to me? In the mind and practice of the Balinese, this was a great blessing to them and to the gods they work so hard every day to please.
Now when the other neighborhood dogs come around my house and look at me, I wonder what they are thinking. Do they think I am a terrible person for what I have done, fattening up a dog, making him attractive and a good candidate for a temple ceremony, or do they wish that they too could give the ultimate gift to the gods after having a delightful few weeks of sheer bliss in the home of an unknowing foreigner girl?
About a month after I moved in to my Bali house in the village of Laplapan, I come home one night to find a little scrawny puppy sitting on my doorstep. When I approach, he growls at me, but I can tell it is a growl of fear. I shoo him away and don't think about him until the next night when he is there again. Again he growls and again I shoo.
A few days later, he is in my house. He has gotten in through a hole in the fence, and since the house is open on the inside, he is in the living room. He sits and stares at me with his pitiful little face. He is so skinny and dirty and so malnourished that he doesn't have any hair. He looks like one of those hairless chihuahua pups. I talk to him and ask him where he's been. He doesn't answer. I get him some water and when I get near, he runs away. I can tell he has been beaten and is scared to death of humans. I leave the water for him and later I see that the bowl is empty. He comes day after day and sits. I feed him a few scraps but hesitate to give him too much because he cannot stay.
He lays there day after day getting skinnier and skinnier. I consider calling him "Gandhi" but decide to call him "Nyepi" after the silent holiday here in Bali, on which day he arrived at my door.
I realize I cannot sit and watch this dog wither in front of me so start to feed him some eggs and eventually break down and by some dog food at the market. Dog food is very expensive here, since there is no great need for it.
Soon, there is a thriving, happy puppy living with me. He is delightful and full of puppy life. He runs and jumps and playfully bites and frolics with the 3 year old daughter of the woman who cleans the house. He is a joy, but the whole time I am feeling a little uneasy about having Nyepi there because it's not my house and I don't want to leave him for the owner of the home after I move out.
As Nyepi grows and gets his energy, he becomes a real puppy and begins to chew on the the furniture and tear holes in the cushions. This feels like a final straw for me and I know I have to keep him outside. I have Sari come to repair the hole in the fence and put him out. Oh, the wailing and the crying..... He was totally incensed and cries and paws at the door. He could not believe what was happening in his little puppy world.
I continue to feed him outside but not as much. He stays by the front door and his little puppy friends come to play. I am amazed as I watch him interact and play and cannot believe the difference between him and his friends. They are all so unhealthy and full of fleas and bugs and have little fur. He is healthy and gorgeous.
After about two weeks of being outside, Nyepi is gone one day. I watch for him, but he doesn't return. I feel a mix and sadness and gladness about this turn of events. I am hoping that he has gone back to his mother and his dog friends in his own neighborhood.
One day, Sari asks me about the puppy. I tell him he is gone, and Sari shows a knowing, slight smile. "I think someone has taken him" he says. "Oh, great. Someone has taken him to live with them?" "No." Sari says, "someone has taken him to the temple". There are a few moments of silence as the reality of what he says sinks into me. My stomach drops. It feels like a punch with a big fist. Someone has taken him for a sacrifice, a practice that is still very much in use in Bali today as it has been for hundreds of years. Sari sees the horror on my face and he soothes me. "Please don't worry. This is very good karma for the puppy. He will come back as a human in the next life. This is a good thing."
I am still grappling with this experience and my feelings about it. It seems so terrible, but who am I to judge other cultures and the things they believe in, no matter how wrong they may seem to me? In the mind and practice of the Balinese, this was a great blessing to them and to the gods they work so hard every day to please.
Now when the other neighborhood dogs come around my house and look at me, I wonder what they are thinking. Do they think I am a terrible person for what I have done, fattening up a dog, making him attractive and a good candidate for a temple ceremony, or do they wish that they too could give the ultimate gift to the gods after having a delightful few weeks of sheer bliss in the home of an unknowing foreigner girl?
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