Farhaan

Adopted 20 May 2006 in Daharan, Saudi Arabia – died 29 January 2011 in Houston, USA

Dear Julia Zack:

The world is a quieter, safer, duller place as of 2100 hours of 29 January 2011, when Farhaan succumbed to the only enemy he couldn't beat, old age.

I want to thank you, Julia, for bringing this canine force of nature into our lives. There was a glimpse of things to come when he mauled sweet Magnus, the resident dog, he was supposed to befriend. He bit Chris within millimeters of the femoral artery; other bites followed, each resulting in a pair of smashing Bermuda pants. Because it was open season on houseboys, I was the only expat in Dhahran to push a mop and scrub toilets. He bit DVMs Cessford and Robinson at the Arabian Kennel Club clinic and several vet techs there. But friends were his main fare: John Eigelhart, BethTaylor .... I try to forget how many others. Entering or leaving the house was a harrowing experience for anyone afraid of bared teeth. Once inside, seated and drink in hand, guests were supposed to remain static, like a frozen tableaux; any attempt to get up or move more than was required for breathing, provoked Farhaan to growl menacingly; daring to get up required my personal protection and escort. In fact, Chris sometimes shielded himself with a stool, like a lion tamer, to go from one point to another. I was never bitten because I realized that if he sensed fear I would not be able to protect him.

Farhaan, which in Arabic means happy, merry, and (yes) gay was what is known as a fear biter. The first 7 years of his life he was confined to a small room shared by two Philipino cooks in Al-Khobar. Marshal, as he was first called, entered that grim enclosure barely weaned, never again to leave except to relieve himself in the building's roof top, a daily ascent that left him permanently afraid of stairs. Farhaan had never seen a car, a tree, a cat .... or people except two men, only one of who cared for him and fed him restaurant leftovers. When the cook's work permit expired, forced to leave Saudi Arabia he wrote an emotional appeal for someone in the Aramco campus -- an oasis in an animal-hostile peninsula -- to adopt his beloved Marshal. You, Julia, as is your wont, stepped in to help. But finding a home was not easy for a highly reactive, unsocialized dog. Two of Aramco's bomb-sniffing dog handlers categorically stated that Farhaan "could not be trusted."

Hesitantly I adopted him on 20 May 2006, while Chris was on a business trip. On his return, he questioned my choice of a second dog but we persevered. Slowly, Farhaan expanded his horizons and gained some trust, but when in doubt, aggression was the answer. To the very end, Farhaan had frequent relapses into weirdness, like walking 4 or 5 steps, stopping, and looking behind again and again, which meant that going just around the block could take forever. Yet, if he spotted a dog in the distance, the plodding mode would turn into a mad dash to injure the offending dot in the horizon. If the target of his rage was near, then I had to anchor myself to a lamp post, a tree, a car.... how I managed to hang on to the leash and prevent untold carnage so many times, remains a mystery. Walking Farhaan was no fun and I have the scars to prove it.

On the positive side, Farhaan's reputation made our residence impregnable. Muslim workers often refused to enter, even with the dog in King-Kong tethers. His bark alone has turned people away from our doors in Dhahran, Tulsa, and Houston. Friend or foe, no difference, he would rush to the door snarling viciously. That's how he greeted his dear human father every day until the end.

From the start, his health was compromised by allergies. Steroid treatment gave him a phocine countenance bringing on a myriad other health problems that required medication. But no pill could be coated in anything so delicious that he couldn't eat it leaving the pill intact on the floor, or spitting it across the room, or thowing it up later. Of hundreds of pills I administered, he swallowed maybe four.

Now it's all behind us. Why aren't we relieved? Why are we mourning? Farhaan Marshal was eerily human: His mistrust, his stubborness, his bravado to hide weakness, his prejudices, his volatility ... it was easy to recognize oneself in the mirror of his almond eyes. Lucky for us he was a dog with all the virtues of his kind. To me who knew him best his plump, velvety teddy bear ears symbolized his utter vulnerability in a world he feared would not spare him.

I remember the parting words of Dr. Robinson when I asked him to issue the necessary papers to take Farhaan (and his Arab nemesis, Basmah, the one-eyed cat) to the USA on our repatriation. "You are taking HIM!?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Oh my! What a lucky dog!" In fact, Chris -- whose patience, generosity, and courage in the saga that just ended can never be praised enough -- and I were the lucky ones to be loved by that magnificent "rage ball."

Thank you Julia for making it all possible. -- Dolores