Two Dog Night

It took me a while to figure out why the dogs I would see around the neighborhoods seemed so different. Finally I realized that they were way too quiet. I guess a lot of people do have dogs for pets, but I rarely see them. (My hostess has explained that around 6:00 AM a lot of people are out walking their pet dogs. I am happy to take her word for it.) The dogs I’m seeing on the street are all stray. I would have thought they would be dangerous, but I have never seen such mild mannered dogs. I have rarely seen any one of them open his mouth to make a noise. We can walk just a foot or two away from them, and they will do no more than lift their heads. My suspicion is that they have learned from a young age that they are not welcome and there is a price to pay for bothering those who pass by.

At night, though, it’s a different story. The pity that wells up in me at seeing these mild-mannered dogs search for food among the garbage dissipates somewhat as I listen to them bark, whimper, and howl. Apparently, the night really belongs to the dogs, as they form packs and, I imagine, do whatever mischief comes to mind.

The other night, as Steve was walking me home from their apartment, we heard a terrible whimpering. We didn’t stop to investigate, but soon after saw a small dog, about half the size of most that we’ve seen, walking a little uncertainly as it poked around for food. We didn’t go to it or call it over, just talked together of how cute it was and how bad we felt for it. It couldn’t have understood. But it walked over and started, rather nonchalantly, following us. It was only a few blocks from there to the place where I’m staying, and we often glanced back and decided that it had turned back. Half a minute later we would discover that it was actually still there. How I wanted to stop and give it a good scratch! And I really don’t think the dog would have harmed me, but these stray dogs are carriers of who knows what filth and diseases, so I carefully restrained myself. But what would it do when I entered the gate and left it outside? I wasn’t surprised when it whimpered a bit. Oh, how I wanted to bring it something to eat and let if feel wanted. The fact that this is not my place helped me hold back. But it quickly realized that Steve was heading back down the street. I laughed as I watched him turn to talk to it.

The next morning I asked how far it had followed him. After all, it had only picked us up about half way between their place and mine. It followed all the way back! In fact, when he arrived home, he went in and got Mary and Alain to come out and see it. This was a smart dog; it must have felt on the verge of hitting the jackpot. So much attention! No harsh words, or shoeing away. But alas, good sense and caution ruled. The desire to adopt the cute, persistent little creature was squelched (not that it would have been allowed inside the gate, even then), and he returned, at some point, to his life on the streets. When Alain and I passed him at around the same point two nights later, I don’t think he even glanced our way.

Later the same evening that Steve & I first noticed the dog, I was having difficulty getting to sleep, partly because one of the dogs in the neighborhood seemed to be making a fuss from a much closer location that usual. In fact, a dog seemed to be on their veranda, which is one floor up from the street. Since my hosts had already turned in for the night also, I wasn’t sure what to do, and ended up doing nothing. Wrong choice. When I came out for breakfast the next morning, I was told that a dog had indeed been on their veranda sometime during the night, and had chewed up one of my sandals and one of my hostess’s. (I suppose they were different courses of his midnight snack.) Fortunately, with all the rain we had been getting, and the dirt and mud we have to walk through, I had been wearing an old pair of sandals that I had actually “retired” at home about a year ago. Now we’re careful to secure the wooden gate at the top of their stairs, and, while I still remove my shoes upon entering their home, I keep them inside. (P.S. You may think the cute puppy was the culprit, but he wouldn’t have been able to get inside the lower gate, if he had returned. They think it must have been the dog of a neighbor within the same gate.)