Well, as I have long feared, "certain people" here at Villa Kampung Kumpul have decided that they don't like Takut the dog, and so they have gone to the villa manager with the request that she come to me and demand that I get rid of the dog.
"Not my dog," I say. "He was here in the villa when I arrived back in March."
"Oh, hmm. Well, maybe you can keep him outside the villa."
"No, as you can see, if the door is locked, he will scratch the hell out of it until someone lets him in. Given that my room is nearest to the door, it is I who end up letting him in so that, well, you know, so that I can go back to sleep."
"Oh. Hmm. Well, maybe if you stop feeding him."
"No. I'm not going to stop feeding him. I can't do that. What I can do is move out myself. If I'm gone, I suppose that the dog will eventually get the message and look for another safe haven. Or I could maybe move and take him with me."
Hmm. Well. No. The manager does not necessarily want me to take my rent money and leave.
"Well, can you maybe make sure he doesn't go toward the back of the villa or out on the back patio."
"No, I can guarantee no such thing. When I am gone, I have no idea where the dog goes or what the dog does. He is not, as I have said, my dog. My impression, however, is that he either lies on my porch or out in the parking garage till I get home."
Takut is an old dog. Mostly he lies around. Mostly what he wants is to be liked, and to be fed. It is clear that at some point in the past, he was simply discarded, and has likely been mistreated given the keen mistrust of people he clearly displayed when I first made his acquaintance. As I have mentioned before, he used to live under the patio floor at the back of the villa, rarely venturing out. Little by little, he became more trusting of people, less fearful. He wanted only for safety and some affection.
Now there are "certain people" who don't like the way he looks. He seems to them a threat. Perhaps he is diseased. Perhaps he has rabies. Perhaps he will suddenly bite them for no reason. Moreover, he is ugly. And a dog. He is, as I have said, generally either in my room or on my porch, but this, apparently, for them is unacceptable.
So fine. I advised the manager to handle the matter however she likes, as long as she, or any of them, don't try to employ carelessness or cruelty or hard-heartedness on my part. It's just not me, and I would hope it never would be.
As long as I have lived here in Bali, in every house or apartment, dogs have attached themselves to me. They come from this or that neighbor who at some point decided it would be fun to have a dog, and then decided they were tired of the dog, tired of caring for the dog, tired of feeding the dog. They come seeking safety, sustenance, and a little bit of human affection. I have never turned any of them away. And I'm not about to start now.
Some truly shitty people in this world, I reckon. People who make dogs look like saints.
"Not my dog," I say. "He was here in the villa when I arrived back in March."
"Oh, hmm. Well, maybe you can keep him outside the villa."
"No, as you can see, if the door is locked, he will scratch the hell out of it until someone lets him in. Given that my room is nearest to the door, it is I who end up letting him in so that, well, you know, so that I can go back to sleep."
"Oh. Hmm. Well, maybe if you stop feeding him."
"No. I'm not going to stop feeding him. I can't do that. What I can do is move out myself. If I'm gone, I suppose that the dog will eventually get the message and look for another safe haven. Or I could maybe move and take him with me."
Hmm. Well. No. The manager does not necessarily want me to take my rent money and leave.
"Well, can you maybe make sure he doesn't go toward the back of the villa or out on the back patio."
"No, I can guarantee no such thing. When I am gone, I have no idea where the dog goes or what the dog does. He is not, as I have said, my dog. My impression, however, is that he either lies on my porch or out in the parking garage till I get home."
Takut is an old dog. Mostly he lies around. Mostly what he wants is to be liked, and to be fed. It is clear that at some point in the past, he was simply discarded, and has likely been mistreated given the keen mistrust of people he clearly displayed when I first made his acquaintance. As I have mentioned before, he used to live under the patio floor at the back of the villa, rarely venturing out. Little by little, he became more trusting of people, less fearful. He wanted only for safety and some affection.
Now there are "certain people" who don't like the way he looks. He seems to them a threat. Perhaps he is diseased. Perhaps he has rabies. Perhaps he will suddenly bite them for no reason. Moreover, he is ugly. And a dog. He is, as I have said, generally either in my room or on my porch, but this, apparently, for them is unacceptable.
So fine. I advised the manager to handle the matter however she likes, as long as she, or any of them, don't try to employ carelessness or cruelty or hard-heartedness on my part. It's just not me, and I would hope it never would be.
As long as I have lived here in Bali, in every house or apartment, dogs have attached themselves to me. They come from this or that neighbor who at some point decided it would be fun to have a dog, and then decided they were tired of the dog, tired of caring for the dog, tired of feeding the dog. They come seeking safety, sustenance, and a little bit of human affection. I have never turned any of them away. And I'm not about to start now.
Some truly shitty people in this world, I reckon. People who make dogs look like saints.
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