It is winter already and my dog Ziggy, a 65 kg
Akita, loves his long morning walks in the cold. I am an early riser, so we do
downtown at 5 am every morning for a few miles of walking.
At that hour the downtown is practically empty,
except the occasional car and the two other men who walk their dogs every
morning. We exchange a few words and continue our quiet walks.
Ziggy remains vigilant as a protective dog
throughout the walk. His eyes see what I cannot identify in the dark, and his
nose guides him to the raccoons and skunks that come out of the city sewers and
down trees at that hour. He knows to stay away from these animals, but when he
picks up the scent of a coyote he tests my still dormant muscles to the limit
by pulling me like a small horse.
So, this morning he stopped, got the hair on his
back up, and pointed his head to something in the dark. I did not see anything
but trusted his judgment. So we walked slowly, till I saw a person, wearing
heavy winter coat with a hood walking back and forth in front of an apartment building.
Ziggy stopped and assessed the situation – was he to protect me or just be friendly?
And friendly he was. We came close, and while I
could not see the face of the person, it was a female voice who said:
“Oh, he is a cute dog!”
By then, Ziggy was next to her and promptly sat down
at her feet, something he had never done before a stranger.
“Can I pet him? I promise I am harmless” the voice
said.
“He is too” I replied, “and he seems to like you.”
Then, given the hour and the way the woman was
pacing back and forth, I asked:
“Are you ok?”
At that point she lifted her hood and I saw a young
woman with sad eyes.
“I am scheduled to be induced tomorrow. Forty three
weeks already. I am very, very tired. So I am walking back and forth hoping
that I can start labour. But no luck.”
Somehow Ziggy had figured things out.
“It is beautiful moment of your life” I said, “I am
sure all will end soon with the birth of a new life that will make you proud
for the rest of your life. Just do not stay too long in the cold.”
She did not respond, jut asked:
“What is his name?”
“Ziggy” I said.
Then she walked back to the front door of the
apartment building and disappeared.
… As we resumed our walk, somehow a moment from a
maternal health clinic in London, England came to my mind. I was there to
discuss a Caesarean section study with the clinicians and I recalled a
typically British sign on one of the clinic’s doors. As always I had a camera
with me.
Upon return, I looked for that photo as I was sure I
had not published it before. That photo is atop this assay.
Then, as I was looking through my scanned photos
(from film prints, of course), I wondered if there were other signs or moments
from my health care troubadour days that I had forgotten taking.
So, here are a few.
A. Buenos Aires, Argentina:
Staying with the health care theme, this had caught my eye. Of course, it was
meant to! (The writing says "There is a plan for every one.")
B. Amsterdam, the Netherlands:
Well, I have to admit that I had not
seen such advertising for men’s underwear!
C. Vienna, Austria:
It is not sign, but that kiss on the bench takes a special meaning when Mozart
is looking at you!
D. Warsaw, Poland:
I think the room service hotel employee had a great sense of humour. the ironing board delivered to a room looks like a modern robot that would iron your shirt by itself!
E. Jerome, Arizona:
I wanted to meet the person who designed those perplexing road signs!
F. Rochester, New York:
If the daily menu is not clearly written, just ask the cook.
G. Malaga, Spain:
I am delighted to live during the present state of human evolution.
H. Arizona state line:
I took the first photos from a moving car window. The first two are complementary as I took two quick shots with my Nikon F3. The third one explains why I
did not see any tourists at that park…
At this point, I stopped searching through my photos, knowing well that there are more such captures.
And I wished that the young woman we met this morning will have a blessed experience becoming a mom tomorrow.
November 21, 2025
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025
