The Dog

Before I decided to rescue a dog, I spent quite a bit of time imagining what life with a pet might look like. In my visions, we were inseparable companions, walking through the world together—my dog calm and friendly towards every creature we encountered: human, dog, or squirrel. I pictured him greeting me after work, a little bubble of joy, as they say. I thought having a dog would keep me more grounded, pulling me away from my tendency to zoom out into escapist daydreams.

After a few weeks of pondering, I submitted an adoption application, and just a couple of days later, I met the dog who would soon become mine. Back then, he was called Zderzak, which means “bumper” in Polish—yes, you guessed it, he’d been hit by a car. Zderzak had already gained a bit of fame as a popular YouTuber had been fostering him.

But the name had to go—not only because of its tragic origin, but also because none of my colleagues could pronounce it properly. And I had every intention of raising a social dog.

He arrived in Berlin on 26th April 2019. I named him Smyk. Smyku is the vocative form of it. In Polish, the vocative case is used when addressing someone directly. So, to all my English-speaking friends Smyk is known as Smyku.

Smyk, as I remembered from my childhood, describe a mischievous child. And let me tell you—he lived up to it immediately. One of our very first afternoons when I was gone to pick up groceries, he chewed up five shoes. All of them left ones.

He turned out to be an absolute sweetheart with people, but rather selective when it came to other dogs. In the beginning, he was quite reactive, but over time, we developed tricks and routines to help avoid stressful situations. But to be honest, it wasn’t always easy.

Do you remember those viral videos with captions like “Japanese scientists discovered that dogs judge us”? I agree 100%. Smyk is wildly judgemental. When I return home, I’m greeted with a dramatic sigh and a look that screams, “Why did you leave?”, followed by a mournful stomp to the water bowl.

He's a champion of rest, easily clocking in 17 hours of sleep a day. While all the life coaches and self-help gurus preach, Strive for excellence, Smyku insists, Strive for comfort.

Got something to do? Take a nap instead. You will miss the deadline and the work will be gone. - Smyku, whenever he sees me doing something.

Past Lives

Sometimes I wonder who he was before we met. Was he raised by cats? It would explain his utter indifference when I return home—if anything, he seems slightly annoyed that I had left in the first place.

He often “tells” me stories from his past, the little megalomaniac. Would you believe he claims he once worked with the police solving crimes in kindergartens? Why kindergartens? Because, according to him, he’s too small for proper crime work. His first (and only) case? Missing sandwiches. After a very thorough investigation, even more sandwiches mysteriously disappeared. But don’t worry—he caught the culprit red-handed. Or rather, red-pawed. Or even didn't have to catch anybody, he just turned himself in.

The Gift

He’s picky, impulsive, and convinced of his own grandeur. And yet—I love this dog so much. He’s taught me that you don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love, care, patience, and attention.

He’s shown me that even I can be a responsible adult for another creature and get up in the middle of the night and go outside if his belly aches.

Thank you to all of you who helped me over the years by walking or even hosting Smyku. I appreciate you <3

It’s been six years with this stubborn gentleman and I couldn't be more grateful for it. We've somehow made it right for each other.

Thank you for reading.

Wiktoria

PS. In this week's music corner (btw, do you even like this part of my letters?), Claude Debussy's La mer. I love watching an orchestra play.