Amarok is the name for the Grey Wolf given by some Indian tribes. The wolf is sacred to them.

I got Amarok like the proverb is saying: " a virgin her child". Yet, everything went so smooth...

On a sunny morning you gather your kittens, put them into a carrier and drive the squeaky, meowing bunch of furry balls to the vet to have them given their first-time-vaccination. Entering the vets office you take notice of three coal black furry rolls, laying on the floor near the vets desk in a row like sardines in a can, and snoozing a race. Used to meet some odd "guests" at the vets office every time you don't think anything of it. First suspicion arouses when the veterinarian technician begins to talk about your exposed living area and a dog would be a very good guardian... You meet with repulse. 15 cats and a dog? Imposssssible!!!

The vet tech, crafty at pursuading somebody in something, takes a break in the discussion while the main actors of the comedy are checked and vaccinated. You tell some funny stories from their young lives and laugh a lot and forget about the delicate theme. Kittens are put back into the carrier and you innocently turn over to the technician - and find all of a sudden one of these black hairy bolsters in your arms. The furry monster nestles its head into your cheek, nudges its cold wet nose into your neck and finally leans its head with a deep breath on your shoulder...



Since then I have a dog!




Amarok was born on May 24, 2002. His sire is a beautiful black flatcoated Labrador, his dam is a very mobile shaggy Puli. Amarok grew up at a hungarian horse stable, he's friends with any animal (therefore he came with his own little zoo - ticks, fleas and lices). Due to his parents there are - oh my! - two souls living in his chest. The Labrador is a retriever, this causes Amarok to pick up every little twig, leaf, or even a dead blade of grass on his way to carry it around. Admittedly, he also finds some odd things to drag: empty cigarette boxes, used paper tissues, windblown scraps of building material, rotten plastic ties - everything mens' thoughtless throwing away will be busy picked up and retrieved by Amarok: "Look Mom, I've found this!" Good grief!

Daddy Labrador
Momma Puli

The other part of Amaroks souls is the one of a Puli: A Puli is a sheepdog, especially bred to drive flocks. This trait causes Amarok on hikes to butt his nose into my knees : "Go ahead! Hurry up! Why are you so slow?" risking some falls of mine, particularely on snow or ice... He has unbelievable power and rushes like a satelite through our not quite small garden (Thank God it is 90 % ordinary meadow...) Recently he's proven his talent for a driver dog. An unexpected visitor opened the door and held it open for just a moment too long - and Abby, one of my breeding queens - and on top of everything pregnant - escaped into the garden. That was something for Amarok's taste. Now he could show his hereditary factors, ha! But cats aren't sheeps. Abby quickly understood the intention of the dog and cleverly got out of his way. After 15 minutes, whilst I was really near to a stroke, the cat finally sat on the roof of the outdoor enclosure (I couldn't open the door due to the inhabitants in there); my visitor, feeling guilty and wanting to put his mistake right with helping to chase the cat around, causing the cat to panic more and encouraged the dog even more to show his talents, was expelled into the house and ordered to take the dog with him; and I, with the help of a quickly brought over ladder, was finally able to fetch the girl from the roof and released her into the enclosure, where she calmed down very quick.

Amarok corresponds very well with the cats (if they haven't just escaped) - or better, the cats with him. The cats act after the motto : "Not even ignore". This pretty ignorance holds the dog down, flopping around bored on his spot. But there are the kittens, luckily! At the age of 8 weeks they are allowed to leave the nursery. They know the dog already, because the nursery is parted from the other rooms through a meshed door. Amarok naturally lays in front of the door throughout the whole day, glancing keenly at the little ones dashing around in the room. The great day has come - the nursery door was opened! Now Amarok is happy. Each single baby has to be greeted, carefully sniffed and immediately washed properly. He likes to carry them around, because, as you know, everybody is too slow for Amarok. Here again he proofs the Labrador in him: he carries every baby so smoothly that some of them really fall in love with this practical transport. Chasta for example. She lived with us up to her 8th month of life before she flew to her new parents in Sweden. She loved the dog so much she allowed him to "drag" her around up to her 8th month - because she was grown too big and heavy for him to carry her properly.

From time to time you will find here new pictures and stories of Amarok and his life with us. If you're interested in them .... ofcourse, see you later!

Yippie, I celebrated my first birthday!

Well, the first year with my family has passed with no greater conflicts. I have my Mom already quite well trained. Yes, so it is called. This I was taught in the dog-school. The trainer shows me there how to train Mom right. He said: "You have to work with the urge to eat and the desire to play." Aha. I'm a good student! Mom learns easy. When I'm forced to do something right (okay, I'm able, but don't talk!) I will get a little piece of sausage first. When I finished my exercise in a good manner I will get again a piece of sausage. See? Sometimes Mom happens to make an error - she's forgetting to give the first piece of sausage. But I'll forgive. The trainer have said "we shouldn't spoil them rotten". Thus, I forget sometimes how an exercise is to do. This way it is always great fun to "work" with Mom.

When the white stuff, which is so nice cold, disappeared from our garden my Mom wasn't so happy because now all my sticks came out which I happened to bury in the white stuff. Why she's so angry? Of course, some of the sticks I buried very deep and this left a few holes in the soil. Mom did all the holes even again. But do you like a garden without some holes? Soil smells so good! On top of all we now are visited by somebody from the neighbourhood. Mom says it is a vole. WOW, guys, I can tell, THIS one buries holes! I had immediately to disqualify the unwelcomed competition. In this garden I am the architect! My Mom looked a bit mysterious, but I taught the vole where it has to go!

Some days ago I visited the hairdresser. Mom said my hairs are a nightmare. I even wasn't allowed to roll over in the grass! Well, I admit, my hairs were really grown very long, and there were knots all over, therefore I raised no objection to get a new haircut. Folks, I can tell: no comparison. Now I can jump and run and roll over in the grass, it's pure fun! Nothing is pinching or tugging and Mom has no longer to moan because of having to comb out grass and moss from my hairs.

Mom did some new pics from me and put it into an album. Here it goes:

Once And Nowadays

What do you say, folks? How do you like my new haircut? Mom says I'm now much more beautiful, but before Winter comes (that's when the white cold stuff lays in the garden) my hairs will have grown in full and then I will have a nice cosy wintercoat. Says Mom. Well, time will tell. Will we meet again? Then - see you later!

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