I am happy to report this morning that the villa manager has decided to take my advice and call BAWA about Takut the dog. BAWA is a loose approximation of what we know in America as the Humane Society, although it operates, as I understand it, wholly on charitable contributions and receives no government support or funding. A strange arrangement for an island that was beset just nine years ago by a rabies epidemic.
In any case, BAWA will at least send someone to see the dog, dispense medicine for his skin condition, and perhaps administer a rabies vaccination (not sure how that determination is made). So everyone seems happy now except for the people who originally complained about Takut, whose sole recourse now seems to be to make a point of not looking at me or speaking to me. No big loss. They will be leaving anyway in January and going back to wherever they came from.
Of course, in an apartment complex situation, one never knows what sort will move in from this time to that. I'm still acclimating myself to the arrangement, as I had only once previously in my life lived in an apartment. Oh, wait … I take that back. I lived with my first wife in an apartment on 12th and Hawthorne back in old Portland town, and then again many years later on 99th Avenue after the divorce from my second wife. In that second apartment, one really never so much as saw his neighbors, although one neighbor did complain to the manager that my bed springs were making too much noise when my girlfriend stayed over.
For his own part, Takut the dog remains perfectly clueless about the conflict over his presence. In fact, I saw him last night standing outside the door to the apartment occupied by the complainants. Apparently he is under the impression that they enjoy his company. Which strikes me as perfectly hilarious.
In any case, BAWA will at least send someone to see the dog, dispense medicine for his skin condition, and perhaps administer a rabies vaccination (not sure how that determination is made). So everyone seems happy now except for the people who originally complained about Takut, whose sole recourse now seems to be to make a point of not looking at me or speaking to me. No big loss. They will be leaving anyway in January and going back to wherever they came from.
Of course, in an apartment complex situation, one never knows what sort will move in from this time to that. I'm still acclimating myself to the arrangement, as I had only once previously in my life lived in an apartment. Oh, wait … I take that back. I lived with my first wife in an apartment on 12th and Hawthorne back in old Portland town, and then again many years later on 99th Avenue after the divorce from my second wife. In that second apartment, one really never so much as saw his neighbors, although one neighbor did complain to the manager that my bed springs were making too much noise when my girlfriend stayed over.
For his own part, Takut the dog remains perfectly clueless about the conflict over his presence. In fact, I saw him last night standing outside the door to the apartment occupied by the complainants. Apparently he is under the impression that they enjoy his company. Which strikes me as perfectly hilarious.
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