Dogs

A cute puppy.  OR a spiteful beast out to get me.

An interesting subject for a blog, yes?  I figured it was worthy of a post, gathering how regularly I find myself cursing these blights on the population.

Now, I'm an animal lover as much as the next person.  Truly.  From age 10 until 15, I was convinced I would grow up to be a vet.  (However, after discovering a lack of desire to study science, and an unfortunate week of work experience in grade 10, I was turned off the idea permanently.)  And I've always doted lovingly on all the creatures my parents house on their farm - cat, ducklings, chickens, cows, even the two pet dogs (Macbeth and Banjo).  I'm not adverse to God's creations in any way, shape or form.

However.



These are crickets, not dog, just to clarify.

Having been chased, growled at, accosted by, threatened with bared teeth, sniffed - and even, once, wilfully attacked (albeit by a chihuahua) - by an uncountable number of canines, I have been forced to declare a personal war against these beasts.

(As in, I will continue to gripe about their existence, as I've always done)

My methods of revenge are limited, though, as the animal-lover within me won't allow me to inflict genuine harm upon them.  But I am all for eating dog, or advocating eradication programs (actually, there are none in practice in Thailand at the moment), or supporting sterilisation programs (this Thailand has - to some extent). 

Cookin' freshly caught fish over a campfire. 
This is how it should be done!

What has sparked this renewed determination to spout dislike for dogs? 

Well, this morning, as I was out appreciating the beauty of the early light, I decided to climb the staircase up a local bridge to get a better view of the river.  Happily, I did so, and having finished admiring the better view, I descended the stairs - only to see a pair of dogs (one a fluffy rat, the other equivalent to a German Shepherd) rushing over to harass a couple of elderly women.  Their owner was fast behind them, and placated the dogs before things got out of hand.  Not keen to attract further trouble, I figured I would climb the stairs again and stay at the top of the bridge until the dogs and said-owner had moved on.

Yummy-looking, yeah?

After waiting a few moments, all seemed safe, so I descended the stairs once again.  But just as I rounded a corner in the staircase, BAM!  That ferocious little hound and his bigger, more-intimidating body guard, were coming up the stairs.  I was blocked in; there was no escape.  With them barking and growling, and my legs feeling especially vunerable, I put my shoe up to the mouth of the bigger dog. 

"Better the shoe than my leg," I reasoned.

Not quite sure what this all would have looked like to the owner as he came up behind them: me with my foot on his beloved's snout, ready to boot him into next year. 

With his arrival, the dogs calmed down, and he moved them on.  I got off those stairs as quickly as possible, muttering rage about unleashed dogs, and thanking God for protecting me, simultaneously.

Which makes me think I should keep my trust in God, not men, not dogs.  But I also realise that it's not a sign of a godly spirit, if I'm busy writing hate blogs about dogs.  So instead, I ask God to help me love and forgive all people and creatures, no matter what they do to me.

That said, I might have dog for dinner tonight.