Popeye, or: the dog with no name

As part of my training schedule for the upcoming half-marathon, I chose for yesterday’s route from Ohrid to Struga, the next town counterclockwise around lake Ohrid. According to the hostel owner Gyoko, this is a straight-forward 14 km run (though it actually turned out to be only 13 km) along the quiet road parallel to the lake shore, so it was perfect for what I was looking for. At the end, I would take the taxi back to Ohrid to shower. I thought that if I liked Struga, I would do the trip again by bike in the evening and have dinner there. Due to vacation mood, I didn’t manage to leave very early, so by the time I set out, it was around 15 h, and the sun was beating down on the pavement.

I left Ohrid taking a left-turn on the main cross road heading west, then simply followed the road until the residential houses subsided, and came to the Y intersection where I kept left as instructed. From here on, there were mainly green fields and some trees to my right, and fruit

orchards with a few houses to my left.
In order to catch the maximum tree shade, I tried to stay as close to the left edge of the road as possible. After about 3.5 or 4 kilometers, nearby a house, there was a low stone wall behind a small ditch next to the road, covered by high grasses.
Suddenly something in there caught my attention. I slowed down, looked – then leaped back and twitched. There was a little white fur ball which - at closer look - was in fact a small scrubby dog rolled up in a pile of plastic bags. But the reason for my reaction was not only the surprise of seeing it here as if dumped by someone. On the gentle puppy face that was gazing at me there was only one instead of two big black eyes. In place of the second there was a slightly red infected spot, not very visible at first glance.
I thought for a moment, but as I had nothing at hand to help, I went over to the adjacent house where a truck was parked in the driveway. With a few English and German words I tried to explain to the two guys working there about my finding. They seemed to understand that I was talking about an injured dog and that I was asking for water, but the looks they exchanged were more suspicious than impressed, and though I don't mean to be prejudiced my alarm bells rang a little. Had they possibly left the dog there themselves, and were afraid to be discovered? Would they really be interested in rescuing the dog, or rather experimenting with it? Remembering at once that I am in a country where most dogs have no name, and that an insignificant life like this may not mean much here, I quickly added “Never mind. I’ll come back and take care of it”, hinting that I would check on the dog again. The guys returned to work and hopefully forgot about it!

I hesitated: I had nothing to carry the dog, and it looked like it was too weak to walk. And what would I do if I took it? Also, I really had to do my training run today, and it was still early in the afternoon. I decided to go on alone, and come back later with a bicycle.

It took a few minutes until my panic went away. I kept reminding myself that this was not the first time I’d seen a helpless dog in the Balkans, and that people here had other things to struggle with than the life of an abandoned street animal. Nevertheless, I agreed with myself to return later and check in on the one-eyed dog.

I eventually arrived in Struga quite tired, had a rest by the little lake shore beach, then found a collective taxi to return to Ohrid. Back at the hostel, I explained Gyoko what had happened. He helped me packed some food and milk, and a box to put on the back of the bicycle.

The dog was still in the same spot. I hadn’t noticed before how intimated and afraid it was: it wouldn’t even let me touch the fur, and even got scared of the water when it pover over the lid I placed in front of it. Eventually the smell of the cheese lured it out of the dump, and very soon the block of feta, then the milk and other food was gone.
After a while I could pet its head and back, and it started to trust me. I had already decided to take it back to town and to the vet the next morning.
This, however, turned into challenge, as little dog did not want to stay in the box on the bike. At that moment, a man in his 50s passing by

on a bicycle stopped briefly and tried to assist a bit, but more than being helpful he was interested in talking German and finding out about me.
It didn't help, I had to carry little dog on one arm, while pushing the bike with the other one. And so we (I) walked the long way back towards town.
First little dog tried to push itself off my arm in panic every time a bigger dog barked at it or a car drove by loudly, but eventually it learned to stay calm, and it even seemed that little dog enjoyed the luxury mode of transport and protection!

Against my expectations, Gyoko was not very excited about the idea of a hostel dog, even for one night, so I promised to keep it just till the next morning for the vet visit. While we watched little dog shyly inspected the garden, I thought I'd better not give it a name to avoid getting attached to it. Some other hostel guests were happy to look

after it on the terrace for the evening, while I went to buy some dog-compatible food.

The next morning, Little Dog greeted me with great excitement on the terrace, jumping around and wiggling its tail. After breakfast it was time for the doctor. For a last time, I granted VIP arm carrying transport, and could tell that Little Dog felt like town royalty – its confidence had grown back at last!! The vet did a good examination, and confirmed that the lost eye was luckily caused by a now-healed infection that could not spread to the other eye. He also diagnosed a lung infection (due to being in the cold dump), and gave a couple of shots and medicine.
All that time, Dog eagerly looked at the door, and as soon as it was back on the floor, ran out. “Definitely not a house dog” I said to myself. The question was now what to do with it. I had inquired about a dog pound, but unsurprisingly this didn’t exist in Ohrid. The vet confirmed that Dog will be fine now. I paid the 5 € bill to the vet, then found my protectee busy sniffing grass outside. In an instant, I started talking and slowly walking, and figured that if it followed me, we would have to make a plan B. But Little Dog opted to curiously explore the small square; occasionally it came running to me, then very soon got distracted again by some other very dog-cool thing on the side. When I turned around a last time at the bigger intersection, I saw Dog disappearing into a small side road.

“This is where I leave you” I made peace, not knowing that only 2 hours later, I would meet it again on my way to the bus terminal not far from where we had split. For a moment, Dog very happily wiggled his tail, so I wanted to buy it some food. Before I could turn, it had already run onto the busy street, showing off its new self-confidence to another leashed dog on the other side. The fact that it caused a sudden traffic stop and almost got run over, was none of its concern. In relief, I quickly went into a shop to buy some meat spread, and when I came out, there was no more trace of Little White Dog.

That was indeed the last time I saw it. It is obviously no city dog, and I really hope that it has found its way to the greener residential areas of Ohrid, and someone to looks after it – and maybe named it "Popeye" as I will keep my memory of him.