Kennel Hunt

We were thinking of going away for a few days, what with the long weekend and all. We wanted to get away from it all and live a minimalistic life (at least for a few days). What better place than visiting our relatives living in a village off Kandy. They’ve always been telling us to come stay for a while – we thought it just might be the right time to take them up on the offer.

We had six days of holidays coming thanks to Poya, the weekend, Avrudu and also a complimentary day off from my employer. We were feeling all happy inside until we remembered Matisse (my 4 year old Golden Retriever). Usually when we take a vacation, my immediate relatives help out in looking after Matisse – but this time they were all away too. Now what?

Although I hated the idea, I knew there’s not much else I could to except for putting up Matisse at Kennel. We were all too aware of the perils of using kennel services. We have once used such a service; that was a different time and a different place – and that was when we had a cat called Ginger. Yes, we had a cat once. I hated that pompous SoB. Anyway, somewhat reluctantly, our kennel hunt began in earnest.

I got some leads from some friends. That evening I did the rounds, checking out these places. First place I went to had the kennels on the 3rd floor of their building – that was a no no! Next place had cages which were far too small for any large breed – did I mention Matisse was a 4 year old Golden Retriever? Well, two down two to go! The third place had a service picking up the dog and dropping it off too – wonderful, but I didn’t like the look of the guy who was looking after the kennels – he resembled a shady alleyway drug dealer you’d see on movies. I was quite dejected by the time I was looking for the last address on my notepad. To make matters worse it was drizzling and getting quite late.

I pulled up to a fairly large house with a extra large garden. Was I mistaken? Surely this cannot be a kennel? Just then the barking started. It was easily the sounds of more than three dogs. Either I was at the right place or I was in trouble. A middle aged lady answered the door and soon she, her husband and I were sharing stories that dog-people tend to share. We hit it off straight away; I knew this was the right place. After half an hour, I left there feeling happy and somewhat relieved too.

I hoped Matisse wouldn’t be too unhappy with this temporary arrangement.