I have a special haven where I head during week-ends. There, I sleep more than the usual, I eat definitely more than the usual and I feel the peace and quiet of the place flowing through me easier than the usual.
The family’s dog, that doesn’t have a specific name, is one loyal kind of a dog. When the family goes for a pic-nic, he follows and guards it from the other dogs.
When I was heading to the Gharsa –the wild piece of land where the family eventually grows vegetables, fruits, mint, parsley and thyme-, he followed me and was going back and forth specially in the places where other dogs were at the gates of the houses. He would bark and come close to me and my grannie and make weak noises as to urge us to move. Finally, when we were at Gharsa, he had laid near us and eaten some of the rghayf I tossed at him.
Before that dog, there was another one who bore such a striking resemblance with Belle & Sebastien series’ one, that even grownups would call him Belle. He was just as faithful and dutiful and he died a long while ago. My uncle mourned over him and buried him. This one was a big puppy by that time and when he grew up to be such an accomplished dog, my uncle told me : « it seems that the spirit of Belle is within that little fellow. He does the work exactly like that old one ».