My Luxury Arab Villa

My dog Uri is an exceptional guard mainly because he bites any stranger he meets. This trait is fine with me except when he escapes outside over the roof.  Last week he bit a lady electrician who has muscles like iron.

The lady’s daughter took a picture of Uri and the mother called the dreaded Health Department. Misnamed, they have the unhealthy habit of breaking into the suspect’s home and doing bodily harm to the feisty ‘pet’ owner namely me.

So, in what I laughingly call my bedroom, I began to apply chestnut dye to Uri’s white hair. Instantly, he took umbrage and scampered down the big hole dug by rats in rear of my bedroom [laughingly called]. I had no choice but to pursue him.

Much to my delight, the passage opened into a gorgeous three-bedroom Arab home dating from the Turkish rule. The rooms opened onto a magnificent garden with beautiful date palms lemon pomegranate and mango trees. Unpicked for 20 years, no one has lived there for at least that long. It should be my home for the rest of my life.

Uri is blessed.