Our dog was very sweet-natured, docile and patient. In response to this and that the dog preferred my mother to me, I was both aggressive and simultaneously overly affectionate.
It’s that feeling you get when you see a cute helpless thing, of just wanting to squish it’s tiny little head. You know? It’s so darn lovable you just want to SQUEEZE IT until juice comes out.
Sometimes I do this to the ex, who unlike the dog just swats me away viciously. (Cute yes, helpless no.)
I’d flip-flop from bending down and yelling right in her face (not the ex – the dog),
“BAD DOG! YOU NAUGHTY DOG!! YOU’RE A BAD DOG!! BAD BAD BAD DOG!”
to honeyed tones of
“Poor baby, good dog! Who’s being mean to you? Who’s a meanie. Such a good girl.” Kissy kissy smoochie smoochie.
My dog, although traumatized by my schizophrenic displays, tolerated it graciously. (Mostly)
She had a beau, a bad-tempered terrier who lived in the wadi. He’d come round and try to mount her. So his owner would have to keep him on a leash.
Just to taunt him, I’d sit next to my dog, just out of reach of his leash, all the while cooing and petting and cuddling her loudly. He would go BALLISTIC. All that rage, jealousy and frustrated doggy passion. Stupid dog.
The fear that he might eventually escape off his lease and maul me added a little edge, a little piquancy and excitement to the day.
Sometimes I’d sit on the garden wall with a jhadhoo while he was jumping up and yapping manically from below, trying desperately with his stubby terrier legs to scale that wall, so he could at last ‘get me’.
So I’d poke the little horny bastard with my jhadhoo, (Not hard, not to hurt him. Just enough to aggravate him to insanity).
That fucking dog really hated me and really wanted to bonk my lovely, virginal dog.
But I protected her chastity with my jhadhoo.
I also had some illusions of grandeur of being some world-famous photographer and stylist. So I did a small photo series when I posed the dog in various hats, glasses and other props.
I even tried red nail polish but for some reason the colour red painted on her nail terrified her. Either that or it was the chemical fumes from the bottle. I only got one paw done before she bolted. I spent hours chasing her under the dining room table trying to finish the other paw.
I found these photos on my last visit home and scanned them for posterity.
Man, she really was a good dog.
I wish I had a pet.