Jubedog Life

I lived here for the first six weeks after arriving in Tehran in the early 70s. The Hotel Intercontinental, as it was called then, was considered a luxury hotel, and it was indeed that.

It was the first time I had experienced such opulence in my life, having lived in a strictly budgeted, almost poverty-level family economic existence up until then. One night, Dad pulled out all the stops and we dined in the top-floor restaurant there, enjoying escargot and flambéed chateaubriand with julienne fries. Blew my mind that he did that, but I suspect he had received one hell of a bonus when he agreed to move to Iran where he worked as drilling supervisor in the Persian Gulf. I was a junior in high school at the time, in awe of it all.

A month and half after ariving, we moved into a walled-in compound on a kooche just off of Sultanatabad Blvd. where bustling free enterprise lifestyle was advancing in leaps and bounds. I used to roam up and down Sultanatabad hungrily taking in all of its aromas, sights and sounds. Nothing very dazzling, but interesting all the same. After a while, I noticed dogs drinking from street-side ditches conveying water from the Alborz Mountains through the city of what was then about four million people. The ditches were called jubes and the dogs were called jubedogs. Some looked to be in very poor shape while others appeared to be in good health. I was told by classmates at school that Iranian's hated dogs, but I found out later that wasn't true. I was warned not to touch any of them due to possibly being diseased.

I worried about the more bedraggled jubedogs I saw along the avenue, but I never saw one dying or dead on the streets or sidewalks, which amazed me for several reasons, not the least of which was the density and erratic, careening traffic racing along larger thoroughfares of the city. I did find one with puppies later down at the end of the kooche we lived on there.

It was fun roaming up and down Sultanatabad, visting different businesses and watching the people of the city moving about doing their shopping and selling and such. I came to get to know some of the people a bit as I frequented various shops, and everyone was always happy and glad to see me come around even though I never bought much there. Now, with the city war torn by chaotic decree of the convicted felon in the White House, I worry about the people, and the jubedogs, too. I spotted the peak of the hotel on a news cast a couple of nights ago. It didn't appear to be damaged, but there was smoke rising and fires visible nearby. I was surprised it was still standing after so many decades since its construction. I'll be even more surprised if it is still standing after the convicted felon ends his war campaign.

I also wonder about the neighborhood along the kooche, about its people and jubedogs in this time of war where targeting by attack forces is jinky at best, killing school children because someone was too lazy to check expiration date of intell. Criminally negligent, in my opinion, since there can be no reparations sufficient enough to compensate for lives of the youngsters destroyed by the convicted felon in the White House. It is entirely unforgivable.

Then I think of the bustling businesses along the avenue being damaged and destroyed, of the jubedogs unable to find a drink of water because the jubes are clogged with debris.

And I wonder what the future might hold for the people and jubedogs of Iran after the war.

Hope is of no value when a future once as bright as it was before theocracy and convicted felons in positions of immense power decided to wage war against each other, for no good.