“Jack is a flirt.”
“I beg your pardon.” I blinked up at the neighbor who was glaring at me. Confused, I waited for her to continue since all I was doing was going for an evening walk around the colony. With Jack, of course.
“He has absolutely no control over himself and needs to be kept on a tight leash.”
Instinctively tightening my grip on the leash I already held in my hand, I looked down at Jack. For the uninitiated, Jack is my dog and the love of my life.
He blinked back up at me looking equally confused.
“Your dog needs to learn some manners and his place. Haven’t you taught him anything?”
His place? What the hell does his place mean? And my dog is most certainly both well behaved and well mannered. As if to prove a point, at that very moment, Jack plonked his bottom down and held up a paw. A paw that my angry neighbor stepped back from in distaste.
“What exactly is the problem, aunty?” I really wanted to get back to my walk and wasn’t feeling very charitable about someone who insisted on insulting my dog.
“He,” One quivering finger pointing at Jack like we were in some Victorian melodrama “Is flirting with my poodle.”
Stifling a laugh as I started to see the problem, I answered, “But aunty, Jack is always on a leash when he’s outside the compound wall so don’t worry nothing much can happen.”
“They keep touching noses from the bottom of the gate and I don’t like it.”
Starting to lose my patience, I pasted a patently fake smile on and said, “There is a whole gate and a compound wall between them. Nothing more than the tips of their noses can touch anyway.”
“Make sure that junglee stays away from my girl.” She huffed. “You think anyone is going to want pups that are a poodle-mongrel mix? My Queenie is a thoroughbred.”
Ahhh. That was what his place meant. We were in the middle of doggie racism. God forbid, the mongrel or Indian dog as he is called mingles with one of their elite pure bred bloodlines. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against purebred dogs. I love dogs. Every single one of them. Pedigree or otherwise. I do, however, have a lot against people who look down on a dog for not being a pedigree or doggie royalty so to speak.
As someone who is treated like a king at home, Jack definitely didn’t understand his place as seen by that woman. He decided he wanted to be friends and bumped her hand with his head.
“See,” Again, the finger quivered with outrage as she pointed at Jack, “No manners.” Apparently the offended finger an inch from Jack’s nose proved too much temptation because he reached over and gave it a lavish lick.
With a horrified shriek, she marched off throwing us a final fulminating look over her shoulder. A confused whine from Jack had me glancing down and into his worried, brown eyes.
“Don’t worry baby. Queenie loves you and that’s all that matters.” Dogs, unlike people, always know what truly matters.
Shaking my head at people who would never understand that love, loyalty and compassion mean more than impeccable bloodlines and looks, whether it’s humans or animals, I knelt down to pet him until his tail wagged hard enough to knock me over.
Laughing as he licked my face, I straightened to continue my walk. Jack taught me a simple lesson every single day. Love everybody with all of your heart and the good ones, the ones worth loving will find you and treasure you!
P.S – There are a couple of pictures of my flirt below. One’s his fake dignified look and the other his regular doofus self.