The black dog, whom I call Takut, meaning 'afraid' in Bahasa, is about to give himself better reason than usual to actually be afraid.
As is his usual habit, Takut had gone outside the apartment complex for the night, and then, as is also his usual habit, showed up at the entry at about 4 o'clock in the morning wanting back in. Given that my own front door is only feet away from the entryway door, it is I who he has cast in role of 24 hour personal doorman.
Generally, I am able to get up and stumble out to the entryway to open the door. I had had a hard night, however, and just couldn't quite rouse myself, despite the growing violence of his assault upon the door. I figured he would go away eventually.
By the time I woke again, at about 7 o'clock, the dog was still scratching.
Upon opening the door, I found that he had made large gouges in the wood, and had actually torn off an ornamental part of the door's surface.
"Boy, are you in trouble now," I said.
Unimpressed, Takut simply headed back to his daytime home beneath the floor of the back patio, from whence he will not emerge until evening.
The worst thing about this, really, is that I can't help but suspect that I will be blamed, merely because I am kind to the dog whenever I see him, and throw him a bone if I happen to have one in the house. That's enough to make him my dog.
Who does Takut actually belong to? I have no idea. Just as I have no idea who little Viana belongs to. Is he a stray dog, and is Viana a stray kid? I don't know. I am friendly to Viana as well, but that does not make her mine any more than the dog is mine.
Nonetheless, I can hear it now. That's the guy who invites dogs and children into No Dogs and No Children allowed villas.
Good grief. Another fine mess a dog has gotten me into.
As is his usual habit, Takut had gone outside the apartment complex for the night, and then, as is also his usual habit, showed up at the entry at about 4 o'clock in the morning wanting back in. Given that my own front door is only feet away from the entryway door, it is I who he has cast in role of 24 hour personal doorman.
Generally, I am able to get up and stumble out to the entryway to open the door. I had had a hard night, however, and just couldn't quite rouse myself, despite the growing violence of his assault upon the door. I figured he would go away eventually.
By the time I woke again, at about 7 o'clock, the dog was still scratching.
Upon opening the door, I found that he had made large gouges in the wood, and had actually torn off an ornamental part of the door's surface.
"Boy, are you in trouble now," I said.
Unimpressed, Takut simply headed back to his daytime home beneath the floor of the back patio, from whence he will not emerge until evening.
The worst thing about this, really, is that I can't help but suspect that I will be blamed, merely because I am kind to the dog whenever I see him, and throw him a bone if I happen to have one in the house. That's enough to make him my dog.
Who does Takut actually belong to? I have no idea. Just as I have no idea who little Viana belongs to. Is he a stray dog, and is Viana a stray kid? I don't know. I am friendly to Viana as well, but that does not make her mine any more than the dog is mine.
Nonetheless, I can hear it now. That's the guy who invites dogs and children into No Dogs and No Children allowed villas.
Good grief. Another fine mess a dog has gotten me into.
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