Most people would take a scarf, mug, or picture frame home from their time in Jordan. This August, I will be bring home an unusual token from my fellowship year -- a dog.
In December, during a trip down to Wadi Rum with friends of mine, we came across a puppy at our campsite that was arrestingly adorable. The puppy thoroughly ignored us upon our entrance to the camp. We had an incredible night watching desert stars from the sand and discussing the close of 2018, and upon our return to the camp, the freezing puppy allowed us to stuff her in our jackets. She slept in my bed with me under the blankets and followed us on a four-hour hike into the desert the next day. Before I knew it, she was on my lap in our rental car, heading back to Amman with us. I think it is worth noting that I had no dog food, collar, leash, or permission from my flatmates to bring a dog home. Her name is Mahzooza (Lucky), and she has set off a wave of changes in my life here.
While I thought that I would be living in my last apartment until August, I became acutely aware, upon returning from Wadi Rum, that if I wanted to keep the puppy, I would need to move again. One of my previous flatmates was quite terrified of dogs, and potty training runs down two flights of stairs were treacherous. So I took my string lights down, put my plants in boxes, and prepared to move my large suitcases one more time. I have since moved to a new apartment, with two of my closest friends. Though I dreaded apartment searching and moving due to the uncertainties involved, I could not be happier with the new space that I am sharing with two beautiful humans and a puppy, whom we call Zooz.
Besides dramatically altering my sleep schedule and housing circumstances, Zooz has introduced me to a number of new acquaintances here in Amman. There is the elderly man that oversees an empty parking lot we go to play in, and down the street from him is a young café owner whose daughter likes to pet the puppy. There is the overtired guard who feeds Zooz biscuits and continuously asks if we have a room he can rent in our flat, to which the answer is always “no.” There is the lively butcher who gives me free scrap meat to make homemade dog food with and invites me to dinner at his house. There is an avid runner with a golden retriever named Messy who lets Zooz outside while I’m at work so that the two dogs can play. There are a multitude of strangers who have stopped me in the street to pet her or who have kept their distance and eyed her warily as though she might chase after them. Though I am more appreciative of some of my new acquaintances than others, the fact is that without my four-month-old puppy, they would not be a part of my experiences this year.
I have always jumped at opportunities to hike and go for runs in order to explore Jordan, but in the past two months, I have begun desperately pursuing these activities. I will seize any possibility to get my four-month puppy off of her leash or expending energy. This has led me to seeing some really incredible sunsets and landscapes, which I think that the pictures included in this blog post can testify to. It has also led to me dragging my puppy along behind me on a leash for several miles at Friday morning running club. Then there was the recent time when we drove several hours to go hiking, leading to a carsick puppy puking on my friend’s backpack and shoes.
For the past several weeks, I have been contemplating my inevitable return to the U.S., as I am writing my medical school personal statement. In all honesty, a scarf may have been easier to integrate into my closet as I brave Wisconsin snow storms next year. A mug certainly would have reminded me of Jordan while I consumed ungodly amounts of caffeine throughout medical school. Neither one of those choices would have presented me with explosive diarrhea at 2 AM or chewed-up shoes upon returning from the gym. All that being said, I am quite content with my souvenir choice. I am looking forward to having Mahzooza as an Arabic conversation partner, hiking buddy, and alarm clock for the next decade.