What Morocco Taught Me

Dog Willing

“What Morocco Taught Me”

Before Morocco, I thought I had to protect my parents. But after seeing their dogliness come out when a pack of wild dogs ran toward us, that changed. Strength in numbers, right? But Morocco taught me that strength is also in kindness and welcoming strangers. And it taught me about control—ultimately, our fates are in Dog’s hands. “Inshallah,” they say. It means Dog willing.

But my parents didn’t quite bite on this idea when it came to keeping me safe from the possibility of harm—and that possibility seemed to be lurking around every corner.

There is a deadly caterpillar that my mom droned on about for over a year. Then we wound up in a whole forest of them during their peak season. I could hear Mom’s ball drop from miles away. Dad had to carry me out after four days of grueling trekking in the mountains. But I’m still alive! Talk about Dog’s will.

Ball Drop II

One day I had an epic play session with a palm branch—I mean, E P I C. Then I started to feel weird. Then I stopped eating. The thing is, we moved our pack clear across the country. Now there was a mess of curvy roads and trees between us and help. Would there be someone to help me in a zero dog-tolerance country?

It took two days to get to the concrete jungle. But my folks were happy they found someone to help. Turns out it wasn’t a splinter lodged in my throat or organs after all. It was laryngitis! The look on my parents’ faces was priceless. I got some jabs, and we were off to the big beach—with no water again. Dog willing!