The Furious Days with the Dog in the Night Time

The incidents I am about to narrate are true. Some scenes may be graphic in nature, but this has nothing to do with my blog. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Some time back, when I used to get home in the evening, he used to bully me. He would block my path, growl, chase me around and make me angry enough to kill him. But before you misunderstand, I’m not a housewife, I’m not talking about my husband, and this is not the story of Provoked. (I may be known to eat the occasional box of special K cereal for special women, but this does not make me a girl!) This is the story of Man v/s Canine : when animals attack.

It’s true. The blasted dog used to attack me almost every other day. Err..night. On the nights it didn’t happen, I think the dog was silently watching me from the shadows, just to mess with my mind. Oh, he is wise, that mongrel. He is clever and calculating. He knows what I am afraid of most and he is not afraid to use any tactics, however shameless.

Why, the other day, he even had me attacked by a crow. But let me get back to that later. Let me lay down the basics; give you an idea of what it was like to come face to face with my canine nemesis.

Imagine a boxing arena, well lit and with thousands of spectators. The dog is in one corner and I, in the other. I’m wearing formal pants. The dog isn’t wearing any. (I told you he was shameless.) Thus, it continued night after night. Having to negate a road occupied by a pant-less dog. Now you know how I feel. No?

I know I can take on the dog if I want to (being a pretty big guy, I’ve heard things ranging from the harmless ‘aren’t you too big to be human?’ to the downright insulting ‘mommy, can I ride that camel’) , but he knows and I know too that I don’t want to get bitten. I have weight on my side, but he has rabies. The disease, I mean. Not the tiny creatures that grow into adults. Babies, I mean. Not the disease. You get what I mean. Anyhow, the dog knows that I’m scared of him. This is enough for him to block my road and make it almost impossible to get home without swinging from trees.

After weeks of doing so, I grew tired. I mean, there is only so much swinging that a man’s forearms can take. Anyhow, I decided to call in reinforcements.

Some weeks back, when I had my friends Lattim and Algnam (names written backwards to protect privacy) with me, I decided that it was time to take down the dog.

We confronted the mangy mutt at his favorite haunt (the middle of the road leading to my house) and tried to come up with a plan of attack. The conversation went something like this

Me: What say we throw something at it?

Dog: woof!

Me: Who invited you to the discussion?

Dog: woof!

Lattim: Sounds like a plan. But I think he’s onto us. Look at him barking. Son of a….

Dog: bow!

Me: Just ignore him. What shall we throw? Sticks and stones?

Dog: woof bow!

Lattim: Naa, those may only break his bones.

Dog: bow woof!

Me: Then what? Words? Call him names?

Dog: Raul! (strange howl, not a Spanish footballer’s name. Besides, we should be calling the dog names. Not the other way around.)

Lattim: Naa, words will never hurt him. We need something more potent. Something that can scare the life out of this dog. We need him to run for his life and never return.

Lattim fell into thought. I looked for rocks.

Now, it may be noted that this Lattim is a very resourceful guy. He thinks big. While I was eyeing a little rock, Lattim (who had been going to the gym for a few weeks) grabbed Algnam (a girl, btw), strapped her over his shoulder like a bazooka, and made for the dog while howling a fierce war cry. (in retrospection, the war cry may just have been Algnam screaming for her life. (No girl really wants to be thrown on a dog(or anything else for that matter))). Meanwhile, I gathered rocks in one hand, a stout stick in the other and charged at the dog from a different angle. While Lattim threatened the dog with the girl, I swirled the stick about my head and loosened a flurry of rocks. Algnam continued screaming at high pitched frequencies that only the dog could hear.

Obviously, this is too much for any dog to take. He whipped his tail between his legs and made for the mountains. He has not been seen since. Apparently, man had won the battle over canine(The operative word being apparently).

A few days after the incident, while I was walking in broad daylight, a crow snuck up on me and scratched my head. Honest to God, he did. While running from the crazed crow, I have a sneaky suspicion that I caught a glimpse of a dark shadow behind a tree. The shadow of a dog. And he was giving me the middle finger.