Most of us have one house, and that is the house we live in. Often, we don't own the house, but are merely renting from the owner, but we think of it, nonetheless, as our house. Generally speaking, we make the rules for the house we live in--who comes and goes, who is welcome and who is not, and so on. I note these conditions as prefatory to the following.
The big fat brown dog has several houses, though she owns none of them (she is a dog, after all). She lives in one or another according to her whim, and for each residence, she makes the rules.
For this reason, the skinny little brown dog, whom had visited for a while and whom I had temporarily named "Arthur" (to which he had no objection) has been evicted by the big fat brown dog. From my house, mind you, which, as far as she is concerned, is her house. One of her houses. Her reason? She doesn't like him.
Oh, she liked him just fine whilst she was in heat, but now that has ended, and so has his welcome.
Arthur did make some attempt to stand up for his rights (of which he, like she, has none, but that's neither here nor there); but these objections came to a painful end (for poor Arthur), and so he has given up and permanently removed himself.
I feel badly for Arthur, but I am told by the big fat brown dog that I do not have enough food in the house for both him and her--or rather, that no amount would be quite enough for her but any amount is too much for him. There is also, she says, insufficient space for two dogs in the house (or, I suspect, in the world).
"Isn't that a bit selfish of you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you."
For some days, I saw nothing at all of Arthur, and had begun to fear the worst. Then, just yesterday, I spied him heading around the corner at the intersection of Yeh Aya and Yeh Sungi--in a hurry to get somewhere, so much so that he did not even acknowledge me as I passed. He seemed none the worse for wear, and not without purpose or goal, And so I guess that the big fat brown dog has things just about right. Life goes on. Live and let live--as long as you live somewhere else.
I'm just hoping she will continue my own contract.
(happier days)
The big fat brown dog has several houses, though she owns none of them (she is a dog, after all). She lives in one or another according to her whim, and for each residence, she makes the rules.
For this reason, the skinny little brown dog, whom had visited for a while and whom I had temporarily named "Arthur" (to which he had no objection) has been evicted by the big fat brown dog. From my house, mind you, which, as far as she is concerned, is her house. One of her houses. Her reason? She doesn't like him.
Oh, she liked him just fine whilst she was in heat, but now that has ended, and so has his welcome.
Arthur did make some attempt to stand up for his rights (of which he, like she, has none, but that's neither here nor there); but these objections came to a painful end (for poor Arthur), and so he has given up and permanently removed himself.
I feel badly for Arthur, but I am told by the big fat brown dog that I do not have enough food in the house for both him and her--or rather, that no amount would be quite enough for her but any amount is too much for him. There is also, she says, insufficient space for two dogs in the house (or, I suspect, in the world).
"Isn't that a bit selfish of you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you."
For some days, I saw nothing at all of Arthur, and had begun to fear the worst. Then, just yesterday, I spied him heading around the corner at the intersection of Yeh Aya and Yeh Sungi--in a hurry to get somewhere, so much so that he did not even acknowledge me as I passed. He seemed none the worse for wear, and not without purpose or goal, And so I guess that the big fat brown dog has things just about right. Life goes on. Live and let live--as long as you live somewhere else.
I'm just hoping she will continue my own contract.
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