Last month, Simon and I signed up to participate in a desert cleanup in Ras al-Khaimah with Almost 4x4, an off-roading group that we had yet to meet.  

It seemed like no big deal, just a couple dozen SUV owners meeting in a parking lot then driving into the desert and picking up some trash.  We planned to spend a few hours volunteering, eat dinner with the other cleaners, then go camping.

Before we got out of the car, I showed Simon this video on the iPad and I could NOT stop laughing, which made the funny situation we had walked into even funnier to me.

Or, as Simon put it, I was “hysterical”.  

About the situation we had walked into… 

It was not, as we thought, a casual meeting spot for dune bashers slash trash picker-upers.  

What it was, you see, was a publicity stunt.  A stunt I say!  

This wasn’t apparent right away, because at first it just seemed like a community volunteering event that the Almost 4x4 group was taking part in.   

We were not given instructions by anyone, so we started asking around to see who we should check in with.  We found one of the group leaders and he seemed very confused when we told him this was our first event with the group.  Another group member was also surprised when we asked him questions about what we should be doing.  The conversation went like this:

Him: “You’ve never been before???”

Me: “No! *laughing hysterically still* Do you know everyone else that is here?”

Him: “Well, yeah.”

Me: “Then how do you not realize that you don’t know us, and that we must be new?”

Him: “Uhh…”

Me: *still laughing*

The reactions to our dog also contributed to my hysterical laughter.  One group of guys ended up backing away from Beesly until most of them were pressed against an SUV.

(See the buff guy in the hat?  I met him before- in a pet shop in Jumeriah.  I was petting a puppy and letting it bite my fingers.  That buff guy came up to me and asked if he was allowed to do it too.  I told him I didn’t work there.  He said he knew, he just wanted to know if it was safe to touch the puppy like I was.  I encouraged him to pet the puppy and assured him that the biting didn’t hurt.  He seemed skeptical, but slowly moved his hand towards the cage.  At the last minute, he yanked his hand away and giggled.  It was the same reaction I’d have if I were attempting to pet a tarantula.  

When I saw him at the desert clean up, I did not remind him that we met before.  I thought “Remember me?  I met you in a pet shop and you ran off because you were too afraid to touch that puppy?” might embarrass him in front of his friends… But now I realize they probably would have been like “Dude, we totally understand.”)

Not all reactions to Beesly were negative though!  Although I think Beesly may have wished they were:

These two brave guys pet Beesly briefly.  When they walked away, the one on the left told the one on the right that he looked like a dog… which of course made me laugh even more.

Eventually we were given orange vests and posed for a group picture.

(That kid behind me disapproves of something.)

Then we waited around some more.  We took pictures of a police officer that was oblivious to the fact that an empty water bottle fell out of his SUV and onto the road.  So by that point, not only had no one picked up any trash, but we actually witnessed trash being added to the desert.

After hours of standing around, Simon started to express concern that we would not have enough daylight left to find a camping spot and set up camp.  And, of course, that’s right when the convoy of SUV’s started to actually MOVE.

The size of the convoy was ridiculous!  There were police SUV’s, ambulances, and news crews.

And there were plenty of spectators.

Just as it started to seem like we were actually headed into the desert,

the convoy stopped.

We briefly talked about just leaving, but then imagined an incident happening where we were pronounced “Missing in the Desert” by the guy who took Simon’s name in the parking lot full of dog-phobic men.  

So, instead, Simon went and told somebody that we had to go.  And I said that to make up for our lack of cleaning up anything, we’d pick up trash around our camp site.

We started setting up camp just as it started to get dark.

We didn’t really have any food to cook for dinner since we were supposed to eat with the volunteer group, so I started cooking sausages, bacon, and mushrooms (meant for breakfast) over the fire while Simon finished setting up camp.

Soon it was dark.  I was standing over the grill flipping slices of bacon, and asked Simon to hold the flashlight on the food so I could see what I was doing.  He shined the light in idiotic ways that made me say things like “I CANNOT SEE!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”.  So he crouched down next to the fire.

I was muttering “Geez, you didn’t have to get out of your chair, just shine the light in a reasonable way!” when he said “Sheryn.”  I was still looking at the food and said “Oh god, what did I do?  Drop a sausage in the fire?  Burn something?”  Simon didn’t respond, so I turned to look at him.

He was on one knee, holding the tiny flashlight on a ring box.

He asked me to marry him.

I said yes.

And so we were betrothed!

We enjoyed our first meal as an engaged couple.  A “Ron Swanson Dinner”, as Simon called it.

Then we woke up and spent a nice day in Oman…

…although I was really itching to get back to the UAE (where my cell phone works) so I could call my family.

But then we saw this goat, and I stopped being impatient.

As for the “cleaning up” bit, I did follow through on my word and pick up trash around our campsite, including this burlap-y barley bag:

which I obviously took home and framed.

My fiancé hung it on our wall.

As for the ring…

Simon did good.  

I love him.

(I’m referring to my fiancé, if that wasn’t clear.)

I get stared at when I walk Beesly.  Every time I walk Beesly.  Most of the time I try to respect the different cultural views about dogs and be as understanding as I can that some people are going to dislike my dog.  Some people are going to fear my dog.  And some people are going to be disgusted by my dog.

Simon told me that he was walking Beesly the other day and when he walked out the door, a 6-ish year old boy pressed himself against the wall of the building and screamed “DOGGGG!!!!!!!!”.  Simon said “Really?!?!?” to the boy, and kept on walking.

One of the most common situations I face when I walk my dog around my neighborhood is hearing people excitedly point out to their friends and children that there is a DOG!  I would compare this to how people in Florida would point out to their friends and children that there is an ARMADILLO! near by.

Like, it’s an animal they know exists, but they don’t see often… And it’s definitely not something they’d want to “be near” and definitely not something they’d like to TOUCH.

For argument’s sake I’d say that Beesly is a bit cuter than an armadillo, but this is the best example I can think of right now.

Sometimes when people seem especially interested in my dog, I ask if they’d like to pet her.  I explain that she’s nice and they nervously approach.  I pet Beesly on the head to prove that she won’t bite my hand off.  For a moment they reach forward to touch my dog, only to chicken out and nervously laugh as they back away.  These exchanges don’t bother me because there are worse things that happen.

Once a man on a bicycle intentionally swerved his bike towards Beesly, nearly hitting her, and then rode off laughing that he had scared her.  Sometimes small children will run up and poke her with things or make loud noises near her to startle her.

These are the sorts of things that… how should I word this… evoke thoughts of violence.  Namely of the choking or swiftly-kicking-in-the-throat variety.

Again, though, I get over those things.

Today I went out to walk Beesly and there were two boys playing outside.  They were probably around 8 years old.  One of the boys immediately excitedly ran over to me and was very interested in Beesly.  I told him that he could pet her but he needed to be gentle.  I explained that she would’t hurt him but he needed to be careful not to scare her.  I pet Beesly for reassurance (both for her and the boy).

“She’s not mean?  Won’t bite??” he asked.  ”No.” I said.

As he put the back of his hand towards Beesly’s nose as I had demonstrated, the other little boy ran up to us and chastised his friend for what he was about to do.  The first boy kept moving his hand closer to Beesly, ignoring his friend.  He was determined to pet A Dog, in a way that suggested it’d be something he’d brag to his friends about later.

I know it’s very, very optimistic of me (and probably very naïve of me) to think these small exchanges might better encourage cross-cultural understanding and general free thought (yeah, now that I’ve typed it out, it sounds ridiculous), but I feel that in some minuscule way I’m doing my very small part to discourage the abuse that Beesly clearly went through before we adopted her.  I want for people to see dogs as intelligent creatures that will unconditionally love you, and not as animals that deserve to be mistreated or harmed.

I know cultural differences mean that not everyone will look at a dog the way that I, with my cultural upbringing, will look at a dog.  I know that.  That said, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for people to treat animals, especially my dog WHILE I’M WALKING HER, with enough respect to not intentionally scare or hurt her for their own entertainment.

Just as the first boy was about to finally pat Beesly on the head, his friend exclaimed “NO!  We won’t have enough time to wash our hands before finishing our game!”

That was a good enough reason for the first boy to run off, back to his soccer game.  

For whatever reason, that comment really hurt my feelings.  It was as though I thought Beesly understood what happened and would now feel self-conscious that she was too dirty to be touched.

I don’t know what my real point is here.  I guess it’s just that I, a person that knows what it feels like to be loved by a dog, really appreciate that I know what that feels like.

One day Beesly will be an American and I can’t wait to take her everywhere and for strangers to approach her and say “Hiiiiiiii Honey!!!!!”

(In case I have failed to express the love I feel for my dog, this video of Jimmy Stewart reading a poem about his dog Beau should sum it right up.  Cheers to the dogs we have loved.)

(Oh, and at the risk of being inappropriate and over-sharing, I’d like to note that my hurt feelings could be the result of Super Period (SP), which is what I call the hormonal psychotic-ness that ensues when you take two packs of birth control pills back to back because you don’t want to have to deal with “women’s troubles” on vacation.)