A dogged problem that begs a solution
Domesticated canines are undoubtedly the most loyal animals. This belief was shredded to pieces the other day when I set foot outside the house. In cities, it’s only at dawn when one finds deserted streets running in a regular criss-cross pattern, tempting many a solitary morning walker to take a round. Rising to the bait of the soothing silence, I ventured out into the street lit up by a row of lamplights. A few metres down the lane, my brisk canter slowed to a cautious trot as a sleeping dog sprang to attention to the sound of my shoes on the asphalt. His erect ears and bulging eyes were enough to make me spin around in terror and take to my heels till I reached home safe and sound.
Amused by my misadventure, my parents exhorted me to take a stick along for safety. The stick turned into a magic wand the next morning and the same dog closed his eyes even faster than he had opened them when his gaze fell on the weapon. I walked on with a spring in my step without realising what lay ahead was going to be deadlier. Another canine blocked my way and in defence, I brandished the stick to shoo her away. Perhaps, mistaking my angry gesticulation as serious danger to her litter, she lunged forward and almost had her teeth sunk into my shin. My scream alerted a passer-by, who neutralised her attack by shooting a pebble in her direction as if on cue.
Harbouring cynophobia after being beleaguered by the dogs, the fire of my canine dread stoked to unspeakable proportions by a headline on the front page of the city newspaper about a stray dog biting a young girl jogging around the park in the wee hours. In its wake, I even gave up walking to the nearby temple and turned an atheist for apparently no fault of mine.
In order to help me overcome my irrational fear, a friend in the neighbourhood decided to accompany me to boost my confidence. The plan backfired on the very first day as a street ruffian gang of over half a dozen stray dogs waylaid both of us in chorus, making an aggressive and intimidating snarl at us with their sharp pointed teeth. It seemed, in my life, it was just raining dogs and dogs! The more we tried to pretend to be normal, assuming the pose of a lifeless mannequin on purpose, the more their growl intensified, sending shivers down our spine.
Making a quick U-turn was the only way out without being mauled, and while beating a hasty retreat my mind spelt a long roll of complaints at the neglected duties of the municipal committee that failed to curb the problem of stray dogs. Now, no longer do I trust my childhood idiom learnt by rote that barking dogs seldom bite. Supplanting the word often in place of seldom, I jotted down a nagging question on the front page of my journal that read, who let these dogs out? The answer remains elusive.
MY BRISK CANTER SLOWED TO A CAUTIOUS TROT AS A SLEEPING DOG SPRANG TO ATTENTION TO THE SOUND OF MY SHOES ON THE ASPHALT