A Sad Story

When I first moved into my house there was a dog, Jeana, living on my porch.  Every day I gave her food and water and she would follow me wherever I went.  I tried not to become attached, but soon everyone in the village called her my dog and I looked forward to seeing her when I came home from work. 

Today is the one day of the week that I go to school late.  I slept in, went to the post office, and made my way to school at around 11.  When I got to school Manik, my friend and an English teacher, said that my dog had been hit by a car and that the children who live near me were looking for me for help.  The children left class to show me where Jeana was.  She was lying on the side of the road in front of our school with broken legs and blood everywhere.  I started crying in front of everyone: students, teachers, soldiers and even my school director.  Each student who saw me said, “Ms. Ashley, don’t cry, it will be ok, we will get you another dog.”  Most families do not have pets in Armenia so they thought it was strange for me to be crying over a dog.

All of my students in the 7^th form were trying to come up with ideas to help move Jeana back to my house.  No taxis would take her and most of the boys were afraid to even touch her.  I walked to the art school with a few children and thankfully found Ara.  He is an amazing painter and speaks a little English.  I told him what had happened and he walked with us to Jeana.  Boys from the 12^th form came outside and painstakingly tried to move Jeana into a box so that they could carry her.  It was heartbreaking to watch because she wasn’t able to move at all, and there was too much blood for the boys to move her with their hands. They searched a nearby trash dump and came back with a rusty car door that they managed to slide under Jeana.  They carried her all the way to the art school.  They placed her on the grass and covered her with a blanket.  The people at the art school began calling doctors to see if anyone who come look at her, but they were either too busy or said there was nothing they could do.  I stayed at the art school for several hours and they eventually told me to go home because I was exhausted and kind of a wreck.  Two hours later my neighbor came over with a box of chocolates and told me that Jeana died at the art school.  Manik called right after and said that they had buried the dog next to the school. 

This has definitely been my saddest day in Peace Corps service.  My school and the art school did everything they could to help Jeana and she still died.  At least she was able to die peacefully on the green grass near the art school instead of on broken glass on a street corner.  I am so thankful for my community for their help, especially since the culture in Armenia is not hospitable to animals.  RIP Jeana.