Harry Happens When You're Busy Making Other Plans

by scott michael shanley (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Greece

Some destinies were never meant to be outrun. Like Scottish drizzle that drenches you without you even realising, fate rains down imperceptibly until the whirlwind comes crashing in to knock you off your feet. My date with the unexpected took me to Greece, a land not short on stories of impish Gods visiting a surprise or two on lowly mortals. I had taken a teaching post in Megalopolis, a town in central Peloponnese. A land as proud and complex as its people, the Peloponnese juts downward in four peninsular fingers that point at Crete. Given a starring role in antiquity, it was from the Peloponnese the Spartans marched, Paul preached Corinthian love, and Kolokotronis led a resistance to Ottoman rule. By no stretch of the imagination, if destiny was going to happen anywhere, chances are it was there. Fate must be seasonal. We were deep in a winter caught in a custody battle between warm Aegean sun and bitter Balkan northerly. My class cancelled, I was encouraged to make myself scarce. Walking out into nondescript streets that led away to the ring of hills beyond, at the crossroads leaving town I faced the first of what I foolishly believed were choices. Which road to take? Not a soul to be seen nor a rumble of engines to be heard, the scene was set: a world deserted to let the protagonist decide his path. Crossing south, the land rose abruptly. Dotting the verge, clumps of dense brushwood. Continuing along, a call punctuated the silence. Frail yet strident, it announced itself with intent. Troubled by the distress contained therein, I went to the source. A yelp, a whimper, I couldn’t tell. About to give up the ghost, my eyes fell upon a pool of water in a clearing. There sat the strangest thing: an ornamental ball of black fur no bigger than a squirrel. Squinting, I discerned it was a newborn puppy. Seeing his eyelids shut, him shivering and soaked through, I took off my coat, scooped him up and bundled him in. The wailing stopped but not the questions. Sitting plum in my hand, what he was doing out here alone and half-drowned? One by one, I fished out the rest of the dead, bloated litter, plus the bag they were drowned in. Locals told me the countryside could be unforgiving. Drowning puppies was common practice. Here was a massacre by any other name, and this little guy was the sole survivor. Sightless, shackled, and hobbled by age, his escape was a miracle. Back in town, while i despaired at the cruelty, the vet marvelled at the pup's will to survive. Said a newborn couldn't last his first night without the antibodies in mother's milk. 'This is life here', he explained. 'You are not in Britain now'. Determined he survive, I left with instructions for intensive care. One-part condensed milk with three-parts warm water to be administered at all hours in a baby's bottle. Sterilise the teat. 'No harm in trying to save him,’ he added, his voice pitying. ‘But without that first suckle, they rarely last the night.’ By nightfall my bedsit was freezing. Under a goose-down bag I nestled him in my armpit and slept. Upon waking, I had forgotten all my efforts. Nevertheless, there he was, warm but lifeless. I must've stirred. Then, sputteringly, he did by vomiting on my shoulder. In the ensuing days, first his eyes opened, imprinting on me. Then he learned to stand on all fours. His ears started growing like Dumbo. Then the mischief matched the cuteness. Then he started getting under my skin. Shame I couldn't keep him. I named him Harry after Houdini, the great escapologist. Much as I tried to place him in a loving home in his native Greece, nobody would take him. Now facing second abandonment to the streets, I flew him to England where he lived and eventually died by my side. While Harry was doing his impression of baby Moses, I was meant to be emigrating to Australasia, no strings attached. Instead, I cashed in this selfish future I was sure was coming for one bestowed by a fate that insists you put it before yourself.