Black Doggerel

Last night, when I took the dogs out in the early evening, we encountered a little loose terrier mix. Adorable looking little dog, rough-coated, grey and white with pricked-up tipped ears. The only trouble was, he was running around loose - now, some of the local dogs do get walked without leashes in the parks and cul-de-sacs round here, but they're the ones you see sticking to their owners like Velcro, not even coming up to check Spike and Squish out, under control. This dog had no human with him and was clearly AWOL. He tried to come up to us but Spike is... unwelcoming to strange dogs and he didn't get very close. It was dark, freezing and pouring with rain, it was Saturday night and it was a really bad time for any dog to be out by himself, especially a small one.

Some people pulled up in a car and got out. I spoke to them and mentioned the dog, hoping that since my dogs prevented me getting near him they might do something. They didn't, so I did what I hope someone would do for my dogs in that situation - took Spike and Squish back to the flat, grabbed a spare leash and my mobile phone and went back out by myself to look for him. I found him fairly quickly, but although he looked interested he wouldn't come near me... I called him, he thought about it for a moment and then legged it. Fortunately he ran into a green space behind a row of houses, away from traffic. I went back home, frustrated and feeling I hadn't done enough, and spent the evening watching Blake's 7 with both my dogs snuggled on the couch with me.

I couldn't stop worrying about the little terrier. I hope to hell he found his people.

I had a strange random thought this morning while Spike was helping me put my clothes on in the bathroom. If I seriously believed in reincarnation and if I were susceptible to that sort of comforting, romantic brain candy, I'd find it very easy to convince myself that Spike was my John, returning in dog form. They have the same intense, burning brown eyes, the same skinny, wiry nuclear-reactor metabolism ectomorphic body type, the same obsessive quirky character, the same domineering, just-on-the-edge-of-bullying nasty sense of humour, the same wild streak - even the same sudden lopsided grin.

Of course, if I'd said anything along those lines to John he would have laughed in my face. But then, so did Spike. ;-)

( Cut for a picture - in which Spike approves of Topbit. )