“We need a dog,” Raja said. He hasn’t asked for much, and I love dogs, so I agreed whole heartedly.
“But why do you say that now?” I asked.
“There are so many people on the land these days,” he began. They’re here picking cashews. Some have no respect for the living space of this house; they walk right up and use the house tap and hardly glance at Monica or I as we try to explain that there are other places to gather water. They come and go as they please. And they already stole my beloved mirrors.
On this particular day there were many villagers searching for cashews. Raja asked them to please keep clear of the house, but no matter what he said, people kept coming. So he hatched an idea. Perched before the computer, he downloaded an array of recordings with a mischevious smile. They were of dogs barking.
He played them on a loop, the whole time hollering at the speakers, “Down boy! Careful puppy! They’ll leave soon!”
The effect was magical. Slowly all the people within earshot of the house disappeared deeper into the cashew topes.
“And the cows,” I added, thinking of my pup at home who herds basketballs like animals. “We can train a dog to keep the animals away.”
“Of course!”
“And to bark in the middle of the night. I hear so many noises but hardly ever check to see what’s making them. Dogs would chase unwanted visitors—animal or human—out despite the darkness.”
“Of course!”
“And to cuddle. I like to replace people with dogs.”
Raja didn’t respond right away; he just gave me a look of absolute bewilderment. But I was lost in the memory of snuggling up to my beautiful golden retriever.
“Um, Catherine? I don’t think that’s a good idea. I was thinking more a village mutt.”
Eh, a puppy that meets three out of four needs ain’t bad.
“But why do you say that now?” I asked.
“There are so many people on the land these days,” he began. They’re here picking cashews. Some have no respect for the living space of this house; they walk right up and use the house tap and hardly glance at Monica or I as we try to explain that there are other places to gather water. They come and go as they please. And they already stole my beloved mirrors.
On this particular day there were many villagers searching for cashews. Raja asked them to please keep clear of the house, but no matter what he said, people kept coming. So he hatched an idea. Perched before the computer, he downloaded an array of recordings with a mischevious smile. They were of dogs barking.
He played them on a loop, the whole time hollering at the speakers, “Down boy! Careful puppy! They’ll leave soon!”
The effect was magical. Slowly all the people within earshot of the house disappeared deeper into the cashew topes.
“And the cows,” I added, thinking of my pup at home who herds basketballs like animals. “We can train a dog to keep the animals away.”
“Of course!”
“And to bark in the middle of the night. I hear so many noises but hardly ever check to see what’s making them. Dogs would chase unwanted visitors—animal or human—out despite the darkness.”
“Of course!”
“And to cuddle. I like to replace people with dogs.”
Raja didn’t respond right away; he just gave me a look of absolute bewilderment. But I was lost in the memory of snuggling up to my beautiful golden retriever.
“Um, Catherine? I don’t think that’s a good idea. I was thinking more a village mutt.”
Eh, a puppy that meets three out of four needs ain’t bad.
No comments:
Post a Comment