The first monsoon hits us at dark night. No light in the streets of Pokhara. Our new home for the next while. At the end? His last bedding. The first monsoon rain was hitting us hard and unexpected. It was one of our first nights at this new place. It wasn't well known, yet. A main road framed by souvenir shops, restaurants, trekking and paragliding companies, food stalls, average sellers. Here and there turn offs to guest houses, bed and breakfast's and homesteads for tourists. The turn offs where about to turn into a problem. They didn't. At the end. Credits to Pablo for that one. My major concern before the turn off? Securing my nightly and morning smoke supply. Nothing more important to worry about than that.
There was not just simple rain coming from the skies. It has a reason why they call it monsoon and not just rainfall. There were whole rivers and mountain streams breaking out the clouds, floating down to the heavenly earth of the, just some days ago freshly paved concrete street of Pokhara. It wasn't even a matter of seconds until we both were soaked. Him to his last tiny tip of fur, me down to my undies. Let at least one shop still be open. Silent prayers to the rainy heavens, while I was kind of barefooted tiptoeing around paddles and street lakes, trying to keep an eye on sprinting not so tiny anymore Pablo, while the other was unrestingly flitting both sides of the framed road for any kind of life and smokes.
I nearly passed the one and only open shop. Well, the shop was glowing in the night. Illuminated. My attention focused on my unsuccessful try to hide under the small roof, asking for smokes and organizing my money. What totally slipped through my attention as freshly baked new best travel dog's mate was … Pablo. I had the smokes. I lost a dog. Brilliant. Well done and congratulations.
We consider the situation we are at the moment in. Dark night. Rain. Monsoon. No street lights. New environment. What a great impression, running through all this calling out for Pablo. In what directions was he hiding, when I was abruptly stopping for smokes? Where is our turn off? Was he able to sneak through the gate? Could he remember the other way around? Up and down the street that almost finished it's transformation into the second Phewa lake, calling out for Pablo.
What's that? I can't believe it. As abruptly I stopped for the illuminating shop oasis in the middle of the darkness to please my need for nicotine and smokes, I stopped now, drowning poodle like in the middle of the street in the middle of a first intense outburst of monsoon rain filled clouds, to focus and become sure off what my eyes just grasped a second ago. Pablo's head sticking around a corner. Thank God! Not just a corner. His head was sticking around t h e corner. T h e corner to the second turn off to our rented room overlooking the major 'right side lake road' and the shores of the Phew lake itself. The way Pablo doesn't has o worry about closed gates that just can be opened by human hands. I couldn't believe it. Thank God, he showed up! While I was standing there frozen, thankful and irrigated by one of natures obstacles, Pablo … no! The little fellows head, looking from around the corner and from that one, a pair of extremely reproachfully looking eyes were unbelievingly fixating me. I don't know for how long this karmic beauty was fixating me, until he made me stop. In the middle of the street. In the middle of a freaking heavy asian monsoon.
Our eyes were catching each others. It wasn't just a simple exchange of looks. No. Our eyes caught not just each others look, they were building the bridges to our others consciousness. ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL?! His eyes were sayings ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FOR FUCKING REAL?! YOU LET ME COME BACK?! Sheer disbelieve was jumping out of his gaze. YOU SERIOUSLY LET ME COME BACK AND DIDN'T THOUGHT THAT I MIGHT WILL WAIT AT A DRY SPOT AT OUR PLACE?! YOU SERIOUSLY WERE THINKING I GET LOST?! DUMP ASS?! YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING DUMP ASS!
Oh Pablo! I am so sorry. I had to laugh. The whole situation was just pure and perfect comedy. Who cares about looks and impressions. I laughed pretty loud. Oh Pablo! You've been so right. I am so sorry. You've been so patient with me. Where else are you suppose to go and be, if not to the house where we just moved in a day or so ago? How dare me! How could I seriously consider for just a nano second that you will be somewhere else apart from impatiently in the dry in front of our 'home for a while'? How dare me!
It was one of our special moment. Those of the karmic sort. An idiotic scenario with an even more idiotic unnecessary dramatically running around 'me' being shown off by a small but clever and beautiful dog, to realize that a logical but deep rooted trust brings you to the same result than a freaking out over protecting, worrying motherly behaviour. Maybe just without a little less action and drama and scenery and energy waste and … a bit more reasoning. Oh my sweet Pablo. Sorry for making you come back all the way through the rain to pick me up and guiding me safely home. It was you that night, that ensured that the turn offs won't turn into a major problem.
Do I have to mention, that Pablo wasn't such a big fan of water and wetness in general? This discounter we made certain later, related to the unexpected other discounter that super dog Pablo can't walk over water … Sorry, but it was funny. Naughtily malicious joy. Oh! I am so so sorry!