A Dog's Life

After more than two months, we’re still getting used to the different lives animals “enjoy” in Morocco. From the moment we arrived we’ve been surround by alley cats. During the day you’ll see more than enough as they slink about, but at night they come out in full force, tearing into garbage bags and devouring what they can.



The other night we had cocktails at the twin houses of artist Rita Kallerhoff who explained that cats are common house pets to keep the rats that swarm the city’s sewer system at bay. Cats also develop a symbiotic relationship with the butchers and fishmongers in the souks. Any waste is flung into the street where a few waiting cats can be counted on to tussle over it, saving the butcher the hassle of more conventional disposal. The vast number of sickly kittens contrasting with the smaller population of healthy adults illustrates quite clearly that for the Marrakchi feline population, it is indeed a survival of the fittest.

Dogs, on the other hand, are quite rare here. We've heard that Muslims consider them unclean, though we have yet to read the Koran ourselves. More importantly, though, they're a luxury expense. I spoke with one middle-class Moroccan tour operator, fluent in both French and English, who recounted a friend who spends 160 Dirhams a month feeding his dog. The tour operator was aghast that so much money was being spent on a pet. “I know people who can only afford to eat meat once a month,” he told me, “yet this man buys meat for his dog every day.” Given this, it’s easy to see that dogs are generally imported by European owners or a status symbol for West-looking, upper-class Moroccans. Since we’re now subletting the house of a couple from New York while our house is in its “chrysalis” stages, we’ve added dog-sitting Daisy to our routine. It is immediately apparent that this is not a dog-friendly city. We’ve not heard of, let alone found, a single dog park in the city, nor are stores like PetCo in evidence. Since there are no sidewalks in the Medina, a walk with Daisy involves dodging the scooters and donkey carts, small vehicles and the throngs of pedestrians that jostle for space in the Medina’s narrow streets and keeping her on a very tight leash indeed.



Of course, Daisy lives a life of leisure, and the working donkeys and horses would be envious if they had the time to consider her life. The donkeys that bring loads of building supplies and cart away rubble from our house each day are worked quite hard. When not chaffing under heavy loads, they stand harnessed to their carts under the hot sun, eating handfuls of weeds. We’ve heard, though we have not yet confirmed this ourselves, that as they approach retirement, they’re sent to the zoo where they are fed to the lions. One note of decency: There is a law against using a whip on the mules; cart owners can brandish the whip to scare the poor beasts into service with a loud crack, but cannot touch their hides. We cannot speak to how well this law is patrolled.



Horses are very much in evidence in Marrakech, and in pairs they drive carriages that transport tourists and locals alike. While in New York City, the carriages mainly stick to meandering around Central Park, here they must dodge in and out of traffic, fighting for space with cars and busses, motor scooters, and pedestrians. The traffic flow is very organic, and while the sound of motorists squealing to a halt to avoid collisions is frequent, it’s much harder for horses to stop on a dime. Last night as we were heading past the Place in a taxi, we looked out the window to a horrible sight. A carriage was pulling out into heavy traffic at a trot and suddenly came upon a line of stopped traffic. We heard the scraping sound of metal horseshoes locking up against pavement, but unable to stop the forward momentum of the passenger-laden carriage behind them, the horses went down, and slid several meters across the road on their sides, whinnying all the way. This happened just outside of taxi window, and as our driver kept moving, we turned to see the two beasts struggling to right themselves. We couldn’t help but think that if the carriages themselves had some breaks, it would make life for the horses a lot easier.



We hope the two horses emerged relatively unscathed, but it’s clear that animals here are meant for work rather than pleasure, and the American habit of treating animals more or less like children is quite foreign indeed.