The Zeno Test



Another day has come to an end. It's now 12:24 a.m., Thursday, July 6th, 2006. It's one of my sister's birthday and right now she's on the bus travelling north to Terrace B.C. (Happy Birthday Sister!). This is also the day that I met my wife six years ago back in 2000. Six months later, in December, we were on our way to Hungary to meet her parents. This was the first greatest adventure of my life. I'd never been outside of B.C. other than a short drive now and again to the the states, let alone over seas to a country seven thousand five hundred miles away.

A few days before our departure we had a family gathering to share a traditional christmas dinner. Then, we were seventeen Indians and one Hungarian. Later on in Hungary at a traditional Indian camp facilitated by Hungarians, we were seventeen Hungarians and one Indian. If you were to research the traditional Hungarian way of life and compare it with the traditional Indian (First Nations), you would find that they are very similar.

Upon arriving in Hungary after a very lengthy nine and a half hour flight to Amsterdam and then a two hour connector to Budapest, I was very, very ecstatic. Excitement ran through me like electricity. Here I was, an Indian from a little reserve in the far reaches of north western British Columbia, Canada, seven thousand five hundred miles away from home in a very new and foreign land. I thought, "This can't be so bad. I have Vilma and her brother and from what they've told me about their parents, I'm going to be o.k." It was the dog that I was worried about.

They have this big Hungarian Vizsla named Zeno. From pictures that I have seen he's almost twice the size of the average Vizsla. He's also an excellent hunter; he goes on regular hunting trips with his master, my father in law. He once chased and caught a pheasant before it was even shot. His bark is very fierce and backed by his size it is a very convincing bark. His eyes also add to his stature as do his teeth. "Don't get him too excited and you'll be alright," is what I thought.

Zeno is also known to be an excellent guard dog. You'd never get near the house with out the whole neighbourhood knowing. The mail man fears him; the garbage men fear him; and any service agents that come would gladly stay outside that locked gate until his master comes along. When they see that Zeno is safely put behind a closed door only then do they breath a sigh of relief and enter the house. Upon doing so they will stay near the master's side knowing that he has full authority over Zeno and that he will protect them. Don't get me wrong, Zeno in my opinion would never ultimately hurt any one...he just guards very well those he loves and those who love him.

Our car pulled into the yard about the midnight hour. It was an hour and a half drive from Budapest. My future inlaws anxiously waited on the top stairs watching for us, or, watching for what would be Zeno's reaction when he saw me. The car stopped. I looked out the window and could see that big Vizsla running around the yard and then to the car. I looked toward my inlaws, they were watching intently. I heard Zeno's bark. It was loud. I was reassured by my brother in law, "Don't worry Godwin, he won't hurt you. You're a nice guy, I'm sure he'll like you."

I whispered a prayer and thought on my Indianess and connection with the animal kingdom. I opened the door. Zeno was running around the car barking excitedly. He ran toward my open door. I sat there as he starred at me. "Hello Zeno!" Leaping he placed his front paws in my lap and began licking my face. "Hello boy. I knew you were a kind one. I knew you wouldn't eat me. I think this is the beginnig of a good friendship." I got out of the car with Zeno happily taking each step with me.

I looked toward the stairs as my inlaws to be were starring, smiling, and even laughing. I passed the "Zeno test".

I am very proud of this, considering, that when one of the closest friends of the family - a sweet elderly man - comes to visit, Zeno goes into a rage; he has to be locked away at these times. Since Zeno is never wrong about people, the family sometimes wonders: What is it about the old man?

Today Zeno and I are best friends. Whenever we are in Hungary much time is spent walking and playing with Zeno. I feel so privileged to be his friend. Each time we part I share a few words with him. On our last departure the lump in my throat was huge as tears welled in my eyes- saying our temporary farewells. As we drove away Zeno was running along side the car inside the fench as he let out some of the most gut wrenching cries I'd ever heard a dog cry.

"It's o.k. boy. We'll meet again." And we will.

Take care!

Sincerely,

Godwin B.
- posted by Free2write @ 12:27 AM