Mum didn’t handle life in Crater well. A group of local men often sat on the wall near our front door. She was frightened of them and felt constantly on edge.
Dad, who spent time up-country in the Dhala region, brought back a local dog for me, a pyard, a wild native dog similar to an Australian dingo. We called her Tess.
One day while we were playing she got carried away and bit my leg, hard enough to need stitches. I still have the scar. I think Dad hoped Tess would make Mum feel safer while he was away, but it didn’t work. Mum was sinking into what I now recognise as fairly serious depression.
For medical reasons, Dad was able to secure us a new, air-conditioned flat at Dhobi Lines in Khormaksar, near the airport. It was modern, clean, cooler, and surrounded by other British families. My bedroom had its own air conditioner, though Dad strictly monitored its use to keep the electricity bill down.
Dogs, however, were not permitted.
One afternoon, Mum sent Joan and me on the bus to the Lido beach at Steamer Point. We had a brilliant time, then went for an ice cream soda float (ice cream and Coke) at a bar in The Crescent shopping area.
When we returned, I discovered what had really been going on. While we were out enjoying ourselves, Dad had taken Tess to the vet to be put down. There were no dogs allowed in the new flat, and he hadn’t found her a home.
I was heartbroken. Dad would have felt it too. He’d brought Tess home for my sake and for Mum’s sense of safety. But the move, and Mum’s health, had to come first.
The Day I Didn’t Say Goodbye
I wrote this song about Tess. It’s performed by Isaac B. Cole.
