Fifi or: Foundling

This post is the sixth in a series about 25 years living in Israel.

 

Technological difficulties are still plaguing my efforts.  I guess it IS difficult, when I start a blog on a computer,  and continue it on my cell phone, to know which version to revert to??? The shorter, earlier one or the later, longer one?! Writing yesterday’s blog twice when I was happy with it the first time was a frustrating experience.
But the subject of today won’t be Frustration,  nor will it be Failure.  Both of them were there plenty in the 25 years of living in Jerusalem.

Today I want to remember Fifi. It is not her real name, but both that letter and the D for dog are already taken.  She was my dog, my companion and my daughter for the better part of those 25 years.  I buried her on the outskirts of Ein Karem, a few years ago. She had just turned 16.
Jerusalem has not only a street cat problem. There was a time when there were street dogs. I haven’t seen any for a while. That may be because I moved to another neighborhood, though. Or because the problem is under control now? I doubt it.
It was a stormy, rainy day in November or December. Together with lots of students I was waiting for a bus in the tunnel under the Hebrew University in Mount Scopus. I found a place to sit, and many students crowded around the seats, standing. Every stop brought more people in. This particular bus line took about an hour to get to ‘my’ stop. I remember exactly at which stop I saw her. A small, collarless dog. She was clearly stressing some people out (many very religious Jews don’t like dogs) and I pointed her to the place under my seat, where she would not be in the way or in danger of being stepped on. She took my suggestion. In fact, when the bus got emptier she jumped happily on the free seat opposite me and started to clean herself.
I was in no position to own a dog but lived somewhere where I took care of someone else’s dog and cats. As this dog didn’t seem to belong to anybody, I decided to take her home, with the intention of finding her an adopting family.

She was not very beautiful in most eyes. In mine she was, though. But the thing that made me fall in love with her was her boundless energy, optimism, stubbornness and funniness. After a few days I stopped saying ‘I must find her a home’. She was my dog for 15  and a half years. May her memory be a blessing.