Posts Tagged ‘animals’

As quickly and quietly as I could manage on my shaky legs, I walked to the gate and unlatched it. If the dogs come now I’m done for, I thought. The only thing in more trouble than a prisoner is a prisoner caught trying to escape. I swung the gate open quickly, squeezed through and with trembling fingers latched it back. I could practically hear my heart pumping in my chest. Then I turned and ran.

I found out later that my teacher had called to cancel my lesson for that day but my dearest sister had forgotten to pass the message. Needless to say, I wasn’t at all happy with her. But since I couldn’t very well explain to my parents that I was going to ignore her forever, I decided to ignore the next best thing: big, mean dogs. The following week I was back for my piano lesson. Grades six, seven and eight passed. I never went near those dogs again, or any other Rottweilers or Alsatians for that matter.

My father didn’t get any more dogs after Major and family. We used alarm systems instead.

Some years later, I decided to get a pair of hamsters. Cookie and Chip were the most adorable dwarf hamsters and they soon produced ten tiny, red, hairless baby hamsters that, to be completely honest, looked like red aliens. Within three days however, the babies were dead, eaten by their mother. It was disgusting to say the least. Concerned friends and family helpfully gave about a dozen different tips on how to prevent that from happening again, so I listened, waited and hoped. The next batch lasted five days. I gave up. Besides, the cages stank even though I tried to clean them regularly.

Two years ago, my sister gave me a fish for Christmas. It lived in a little jar that didn’t require filter systems or anything of that sort, ate once in two days and almost never needed its water changed. I loved it. This was a pet I might actually be able to keep. I named it Psychedelic Ginger Beer. Ginger Beer for the colour of the stripes it had and Psychedelic for the way the stripes looked when it moved through the water. A month or so later however, I came home one day to find it floating upside down on the surface of the water. It was dead. And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

A friend told me later that it probably died of loneliness. He said fishes needed to be kept at least two to a tank for company – fighting fish not withstanding. I’m still deciding whether or not to believe him. I’d never heard of anything like that before but if it’s true, I’m glad that it wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do that killed Psychedelic Ginger Beer.

My boyfriend saw the photograph of the dog next to my computer the other day.  He loves dogs and he thought the photograph was beautiful. He wants to have a dog and a cat. I told him I have three dogs already. And a frog. And two bears. They make no mess, no noise and are just adorable. Just because they’re lifeless doesn’t mean soft toys don’t make good pets.

Related posts:

• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 3)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 2)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 1)
• I’m getting nostalgic just coming up with the title
• Making “me” time

The dogs came charging around the corner, headed straight for me. I instinctively turned to the nearest wall, hoping with all my heart that they’d been well fed that day. I think I would have screamed if I hadn’t been so busy trying not to panic.

The Rottweiler jumped up onto his hind legs, landed his big dirty front paws on my back, and before I knew it, had taken a chunk off my favourite t-shirt. He was definitely one big dog. Funnily enough, the first thing I remember thinking was how embarrassing it was going to be when my teacher opened the door and saw me standing there with the bottom back part of my shirt ripped off. The second thing I remember thinking was how relieved I was that Rottweiler had chosen my t-shirt for tea instead of me. Then fear kicked in and I started shouting for someone to please open the door.

It took awhile but I eventually began to realise that nobody was going to open the door. Of course, I thought. That’s why there are no cars in the driveway. Because nobody’s home, how very stupid of me. At that instant, I felt three things. Anger that my teacher hadn’t informed me that she was going out and leaving her two man-eating monsters loose; embarrassment at the predicament I was in, should someone come along and see this girl near tears, wearing a top with a substantially uneven hem and standing in a corner; and fear that I was going to be a mid-afternoon snack at any time.

Rottweiler, meanwhile, had settled down three feet away and was enjoying my t-shirt. Alsatian stood beside him, growling at me. Oh great, I thought, he’s feeling left out and wants some too. Well, seeing as nobody seems to be coming to my aid anytime soon, I guess I should try and get out of here by myself.

I carefully took a small step forward and both dogs immediately growled menacingly. Rottweiler even stopped chewing and got up on all fours. I quickly went back to leaning against the wall. I didn’t care how embarrassing it would be if someone were to find me anymore. I just wanted to get out of there. The next time round they’d probably be wanting more than just t-shirt to chew on.

I decided to try shouting again. But what should I shout? Open the door? There was nobody home, I was pretty much certain of that by now. Help? Who would hear me at this hour? It was mid-afternoon on a weekday and not a soul was on the street. I wanted to cry but I wasn’t going to give the dogs the pleasure of having me crying in front of them. Besides, nobody would hear me, and really, what was the fun of crying all by yourself while two dogs sat three feet away and growled at you?

After a while, Rottweiler went back to his t-shirt and Alsatian settled down on his front paws. Damn those dogs, they were sitting right at the gate so that I couldn’t possibly get out unless I chose to step over their heads. It didn’t help that it was hot and humid and I felt like I was being swarmed by mosquitoes either.

I sighed and leaned against the brick wall – my new best friend. It was uneven but cool to the touch, perfect for someone leaning against it on a hot afternoon, like I was. I bent down slightly to scratch my right leg. Instantly, both dogs were on their feet growling at me. They’d moved so fast I was impressed in spite of my fear. Okay, I told myself. No sudden movements. In fact, no movements at all. What’s a mosquito bite compared to a Rottweiler’s? I was just going to have to stand there and hope that someone came home before I got eaten.

Twenty minutes. I looked at my watch. It hadn’t felt like twenty minutes had passed. I must have been concentrating too hard on keeping sane and staying alive to realise the time. Well, at least my heart rate was beginning to bear some semblance to normality.

Thirty minutes. I was getting tired of standing but the good news was the dogs weren’t growling at me anymore. In fact, they looked like they were getting bored of watching me. Or at least I hoped they were anyway. Didn’t they have better things to do? I was starting to get really restless.

Thirty-five minutes. Alsatian got up. I stiffened. Did I move? Of course not. I held my breath and watched him walk slowly away and round the corner. To his kennel, I assumed. Maybe he was thirsty. Come on, I prayed. Make Rottweiler go away too. I held my breath some more and watched Rottweiler get up and drop what was left of his snack on the ground. After what seemed like several lifetimes, he turned and ran off.

What do I do now? I didn’t know whether I should wait till they were a safe distance away before I made a run for the gate in case they heard me moving and came charging back, or whether I should make a run for it now before they came back from their water break or whatever it was they’d gone off to do. After hardly any thought, I chose the latter. There was no way I was going to stand there and watch the sun set.

(To be continued)

Related posts:

• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 4)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 2)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 1)
• I’m getting nostalgic just coming up with the title
• Making “me” time

“But why?” she’d whine at me a thousand times. “Why don’t you like animals?”  To which I’d have to patiently explain – yet again – that it’s not that I don’t like animals.  I generally have nothing against them, and I do like the really cute ones. It’s just that I could very well live without them too, that’s all.

When I was eight, my dad decided to get a dog. My sister – who was six years old at the time – and I were in throes of delight, until he came home one day with a Rottweiler puppy. Of course back then we had no idea we had a potential killing machine in our midst and so we put aside the Beethovens and Lassies we’d envisioned and tried to love this brown, hair-less and tail-less addition to the family we named Major.

It was impossible almost right the start. From the minute my dad put him down on the ground, he began darting all over the place, upsetting plants and chewing everything in sight, and he didn’t stop until he was a very big, very fierce dog.

“Rottweilers are very good guard dogs,” my father would tell us each time we asked him for a more lovable pet. And he obviously thought our house needed a lot of guarding because he soon bought a female Rottweiler.

“For Major’s company,” he said. Great, now we had two killing machines in our immediate vicinity. By that time, my sister and I had given up all hope of playing with Major. He was just too big, and all those months of us staying away from him had caused us to become almost like strangers to him. He growled most terribly whenever we tried to go near him, and my young mind believed he could and would eat me if I gave him the chance. Even my animal-lover sister eventually gave up trying to be friends with him.

In a matter of months, Mr. and Mrs. Major had eleven puppies and my sister and I were positively horrified. What were we going to do with thirteen mean, angry dogs?  Thankfully, my father gave nine of them away to friends and relatives. The tenth died when it was accidentally crushed by its mother and the eleventh we kept, so we now had a nuclear family of Rottweilers in our backyard.

They didn’t stay long. My father eventually gave away mother and son to a dog-breeder friend of his, leaving Major alone once more. But even Major didn’t stay very long after that because he tried to bite my father one day – nobody knows why – and my father gave him away too. I was happy to see him go because it meant I could play freely in my backyard once more. And I hoped I’d never have to go too near Rottweilers again.

I was wrong. When I was eleven, I took piano lessons from a woman who lived down the street. She had two dogs, an Alsatian and – you guessed it – a Rottweiler. They were dark brown, enormous and very mean.

“Be careful of the dogs,” she would say every time I went for my lessons. “They’re not in a very good mood today.”  Like they would ever be in a good mood.

I managed to stay a more than respectable distance away from them and grades three, four and five passed without mishap. In fact, I even began to say hi to them, when I was on the other side of the gate of course.

One sunny day however, I unlatched the gate and walked in as usual. How odd, I thought to myself. There weren’t any cars in the driveway. Usually, there would be at least one. I turned to latch the gate back into place and heard the sound of paws running on grass. Running very fast, in fact. I realised three milliseconds too late what was coming. I don’t think I even had time to register fear.

(To be continued)

Related posts:

• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 4)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 3)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 1)
• I’m getting nostalgic just coming up with the title
• Making “me” time

[Reading my past work usually makes me cringe, especially if they - like this piece - were written while I was still a wee writing student in university. But 'Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears' are special to me for several reasons and that is why I have kept it till this day.

One: My fellow students laughed when I read this out loud, as we all had to do with our work, and it was maybe the first time I realised I could be funny. Two: The class clapped when I finished, the first (but not the only) time that semester, and it was maybe the first time I realised I could be good. Three: The tutor was an absolute sweetheart who I was fortunate enough to have for two subjects and who, when I once emailed him to say something had come up and I would be unable to present in class one particular Monday, replied with: "Have a good ski trip."

He was right. I was cutting class for a ski weekend, but I never told him so. I recently dug this up again for another read, cringed (of course!) and decided, against my every instinct and better judgment, to share it. Because it holds fond memories. Because every now and then, I miss university. Because I feel like it. So please, um, bear with me.]

x

There’s a photograph of a dog in my bedroom. It’s got soft beautiful snow-white hair and it’s lying on its front paws looking into the camera with the most gorgeous brown eyes. The tip of its black button of a nose is shiny and you can see its reflection on the wooden parquet it’s lying on. It’s a picture of my cousin’s dog that I’d taken last summer, and though I wouldn’t say I’m a dog lover by any means, even I have had to admit that Disney was extremely adorable.

“It’s a Maltese with some Shitzu blood mixed in it,” ten-year-old Jessica had informed me importantly, proud that she could deliver such information.

I was suitably impressed. To my untrained eye and brain, there are only three kinds of dogs, cute dogs, not-so-cute dogs and killer dogs such as Rottweilers and Alsatians.

Not surprisingly, the first category is my favourite. Cute dogs warrant much love and attention – only if I felt like it of course – and nothing else. Definitely no grooming, no cleaning up after and besides forbidden treats, no feeding. The second category I could put up with, as long as they didn’t attempt to chew my belongings or my person. Sometimes if I was feeling extra-friendly, I would even pet them, though there have also been times where I’ve had to enthusiastically pet a dog and exclaim how beautiful it was because a very proud and defensive owner was breathing over my shoulder. The third category I stayed away from as far as possible. If I could get a restraining order against them, I would.

My sister could never understand my apparent lack of love towards dogs, or animals for that matter. She still can’t, but at least she’s come to accept it. She’s the Doctor Dolittle of our family, extended family members included. When she was ten, she cried for two days because our neighbour’s dog fell ill and had to be put to sleep, after which she spent six months holding a grudge against the vet who treated it with all her little heart.

When she was twelve she decided she wanted pet turtles and got my mother to buy her two in the name of “learning to be more responsible”. I have to say it worked because for months after that she diligently cleaned out their cage regularly and fed them, until one day she decided she was tired of them. She gave them to a friend of mine who promptly lost one of them in his garden and accidentally ran over the other one with his car.

(To be continued)

Related posts:

• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 4)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 3)
• Three Dogs, a Frog and Two Bears (Part 2)
• I’m getting nostalgic just coming up with the title
• Making “me” time