Lassie seemed to have the sweetest disposition. Every morning, as I opened the door to leave for school or to greet her on my no-school day, Friday, I would hear the patter of her paws running all the way down the steps from the rooftop terrace on the 5th floor to our second floor apartment. I was very concerned for her security even on our rooftop terrace since it was open to all the residents in a two-building complex with a faraash (a maintenance man) who never smiled, residing in a small room on the ground floor level. There were a lot of people from various cultural backgrounds in our apartment building and except for the six Indian families who were friendly with each other (because we kids played together a lot), most people kept to themselves and seemed the serious sort. Our 4th floor neighbors however, a German couple with an infant daughter, were very sweet and friendly in passing, and I was very grateful for this since they lived closest to the spacious terrace where Lassie quietly spent her time in wait for our next meeting.
One night, my parents were to attend a party that they expected me to go to but I didn’t want to spend time away from Lassie and leave her alone for so long because of some boring grown up gathering. I refused to go. My parents were not in the habit of leaving me home alone if they were to have a late night. I was, however, adamant. I said I couldn’t leave Lassie alone all evening on the roof. By now I had managed to bring Lassie into the front foyer area for short periods of time during some evenings before she would have to return to the roof for the night. So on this particular evening when i refused to leave her alone, both Lassie and I looked at my parents for a decision… she with her warm, helpless, loving dark brown eyes and me with my strong, adamant, protective ones. “Okay,” said my father, “If Lassie stays at home with you tonight, she will be good security. At least we’ll know you’re ok.” I jumped for joy! I had won. And how! Lassie was going to spend her first night at our home! A whole night! I would’ve spent as much of it as I could’ve with her on the roof, and I guess my parents knew that, and that’s why we won big.
The only weird thing about Lassie, I thought then, was that she refused to come further into the house than the foyer. There she sat, upright against the wallpapered wall, a few feet away from the front door. She played with me and cuddled with me in the foyer but refused to follow me in any further. My parents liked this about her. Respect or discipline I think they read this as. So while my parents were at the party, I carried Lassie into the dining area, the living room, and through the hallway into my bedroom. I gave her the grand guided tour… sparing my parents’ room, the kitchen and the bathrooms. After this I put her back in the foyer. Finally, after some coaxing, she slowly walked into the dining area on her own. I remember being so satisfied to have her for that night that I didn’t even think about whether she would be with me the night after or the one after that.
In the morning we awoke together. I spent a lot of that day with her outdoors… it was a holiday so I was around to both enjoy her and watch over her. That evening, which marked our first 24 hours together, she was hanging out in the foyer of our home. The doorbell rang. I noticed she had started to growl even before the bell sounded. An unwelcome visitor had apparently arrived because Lassie immediately went BALLISTIC! As if at the flip of a switch she underwent a massive transformation and turned from mouse to monster!! I held onto her as my mother opened the door carefully. Lassie was now growling, snarling and barking as fiercely as a savage dog defending its life. At the door stood a young Kuwaiti guy I was familiar with. Saeed, age 17, but looked like a full grown man, along with two of his hoodlum Kuwaiti friends, informed my mother that Lassie had bitten another friend of theirs and they needed to take her to the doctor and keep her for observation for a few days in case she has rabies. “Oh, okay,” said my mother, looking concerned about a dog bite. “Where is this friend of yours?” I asked defiantly as I held on firmly to a snarling growling Lassie. “He is at the doctor’s,” replied Saeed calmly, knowing the distrust in my eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll just keep her for a few days and then bring her back,” he explained. Lassie snarled even louder, not leaving any gaps even for breathing it seemed, as she showed her intense disapproval of Saeed and his friends. I understood what she was saying loud and clear, “Don’t trust these people please, they will hurt me.”
“No,” I said, “you can’t take her.” My mother looked at me, still worried and now confused. My dad, who was about to leave for his night shift at the refinery, showed up because of the commotion. “What’s the matter Saeed?” he asked. They exchanged polite greetings in Arabic and then Saeed repeated his cock-n-bull story. My father looked at me and said, “It’s ok, don’t you think… let her go. He’ll bring her back.” “NO!” I screamed, “He won’t! He’s lying! Lassie hasn’t bitten anyone! He wants to hurt her!” My father looked at Saeed questioningly. Saeed repeated, with remarkable pretend sincerity, how he would bring her back but he had to take her right away as per the doctor’s instructions. It was a dilemma for my parents and a no-brainer for me and Lassie. My grip on Lassie got tighter as she vocally fought for her life and I re-assured her with my hold that I was not letting her go anywhere. I looked at Saeed with what were probably blood-red eyes showing both anger and pain at the thought of losing Lassie. He stood silently with his two friends and with the resolve to not leave without her. My parents stood in pause.
Just then, our neighbor Abu Sami, who lived directly up the stairs and across from us, walked by us on his way home from work. Abu Sami also happened to be Saeed’s uncle by blood. I knew Abu Sami to be the nice father of a little girl called Gada and a toddler boy called Sami and I always sensed him to be a kind man of high moral standards. (As dictated by the tradition of Kuwaitis he was referred to as Abu Sami-- father of Sami). Abu Sami quickly detected a tense situation, looked at me, and asked Saeed, in their native Arabic language, what was going on. Saeed probably repeated his bite story and his desire to take Lassie for observation and my refusal to allow this. What followed was a broken stream of exchanges between uncle and nephew with final moments of authority by Abu Sami as he, in his charismatic, calm and confident way, dismissed Saeed from the situation for good and Saeed left knowing he would not get Lassie. Abu Sami and my dad, who understood and spoke Arabic well enough, exchanged some words again in Arabic and my dad thanked him for his help as he took leave of us.
Lassie had relatively quieted down after Saeed’s departure and once the door to our home was shut, my father looked at me and said, “There was no dog bite.” But I already knew that. And I knew they would have been vile and evil with Lassie had we let her go. My mother was relieved and my father became pensive. I decided Lassie was unquestionably spending the night at home. And my family, as a whole, agreed that Lassie was never spending another night outside our home. Nor was she ever spending any unsupervised time during the day outside our home. Lassie was, in other words, home.
The following day, I ran into Saeed on the way to the corner store and he said shamelessly with a teasing smile, “Why do you want that dog? I’ll get you a cute fluffy dog. Give this one to me.” “No thank you,” I said, controlling my deep anger towards him, “I love my dog. Don’t need fluff.”
Lassie was about a-year-old at the time according to her vet. And she loved us, protected us, welcomed us, accompanied us, entertained us and trusted us for the remaining 16 years of her life. And to this day, we always smile deeply when we remember her.
""Wonderful to read the beautiful moments you shared with Lassie. Brought back memories of my growing years with my dogs :-). Pets give us so much more than what we could ever give them. And, your bond with Lassie is even more precious because of how you "found" each other.""
Lassie seemed to have the sweetest disposition. Every morning, as I opened the door to leave for school or to greet her on my no-school day, Friday, I would hear the patter of her paws running all the way down the steps from the rooftop terrace on the 5th floor to our second floor apartment. I was very concerned for her security even on our rooftop terrace since it was open to all the residents in a two-building complex with a faraash (a maintenance man) who never smiled, residing in a small room on the ground floor level. There were a lot of people from various cultural backgrounds in our apartment building and except for the six Indian families who were friendly with each other (because we kids played together a lot), most people kept to themselves and seemed the serious sort. Our 4th floor neighbors however, a German couple with an infant daughter, were very sweet and friendly in passing, and I was very grateful for this since they lived closest to the spacious terrace where Lassie quietly spent her time in wait for our next meeting. 
