Barks and Bites

We chose the flat because it was in a nice quiet area and had a little garden in front for the dogs. We pictured them lolling around under the palm tree, occasionally chasing the odd lizard or ambling off for a snooze in their kennel. This is, after all, a hot country and dogs are very good at dozing all day long.

To make this all possible the landlord built a metal fence, nicely painted in municipal green. The only problem was that we had suggested it should be at least shoulder height: he seemed to think that one metre was enough.

Their first morning, stressed out from the plane journey as well as being stared at by curious customs officials for hours why we struggled to get them released, we put the dogs in this little leafy enclosure to relax. All their needs were addressed. One of their airline boxes, complete with a double-thick blanket on the floor, was their bedroom. Outside was a huge bowl of water. They could marvel at the Congolese butterflies and birds, listen to the bleats of a nearby goat being held in readiness for a feast, and relish the fact that they were reunited with their owners.

Is that how it was?

For some doggy reason they decided that not only was the little garden their exclusive property, but the whole block of flats and the car park as well. It was clearly their duty to defend this place against all invaders, of which there were many. There were gardeners, security guards, policemen, and a number of very important people who live upstairs. Furthermore, the dogs decided that anyone who did not respond to warning barks should get the full treatment – i.e. should be eaten.

The very important people are not used to being barked at. So unused are they that they see it as an affront to their personal dignity. It was no comfort to them to be told that, however much the dogs wanted to eat them, they couldn’t because the fence was too high for them to jump over. They also didn’t believe that it’s actually all pretend, and if you were to challenge the dogs they would melt into instant submission.

So there we were. Terrified people standing outside, not able to get into the building because they were scared of the dogs. Two cross dogs who couldn’t understand why people were just staring at them and arguing.

The situation obviously had to be dealt with, so we give the security guards little lessons in how to approach a dog and let it know that you are a friend. We gave them dog biscuits to keep the dogs quite when people wanted to get in and out of the block.

But alas, too late. The security company had been summoned and two military looking people – who claimed to be dog lovers – had arrived to sort the problem out. They said the fence was too low, and you couldn’t blame people for being scared. They had a point, but we told them that we were going to make it higher.

“That’s not enough”, they said, “you’ve got to take immediate action. You should keep the dogs inside”.

That had never been the plan and the idea took some getting used to. It meant that dogs would have to be taken out regularly to do their business, that the house would soon become a filthy mess and so on and so on. But we were outnumbered, and reluctantly had to agree to do it.

And the dogs? They would obviously hate being locked inside, since they are genetically programmed to hunt and run wild, surely?

Not a bit of it.

“At last”, they said, “you’ve got the message. We told you it was too hot outside, but you wouldn’t listen. Sorry about the barking but a dog has to do what a dog has to do.”

So now it’s air conditioning 24/7 for them. They drape themselves on the tiled floor like a Spanish Princess, congratulating themselves on the fact that now the air is a sensible temperature. What is more they have the 24 hour-a-day company of their devoted human, who will, at the drop of a hat take them for walks and feed them. Gotcha! What heaven!