Monday, July 27, 2015
Street Dogs in the Night
At one in the morning, without warning, all hell broke loose; the neighbor’s dogs barking sounded scared. The Sato Hill Gang awoke from a snooze on the porch, galloped down the drive to investigate. The two terriers from up the hill joined the uproar with their fiercest, we’ll rip your ankle off bark and growl combos.
Before I could get out of bed, dogs were circling my house. The yip of one in pain sounded close; it was here, by my house. Was someone kicking a dog? Puerto Rico is a poor island, so once in a while men walk the roads at night in search of opportunity.
The pained yips came from my carport. Good heavens, my car, I looked around for a weapon; not seeing one in my currently stressed out state, I prayed turning the lights on would frighten away any mal-traitor.
Barking continued in all out panic at my neighbor’s, but only Blondie barked on my porch. My boys weren’t barking. Lucky and Robert Redford, two year old adult males defend the house bravely, so I calmed somewhat and opened the front door.
Dominic, the baby border collie jumped on my leg wanting re-assurance or, better yet, to go in the house. Robert Redford sat near the open door; Lucky followed him into a sit. I opened the door; they quickly filed in.
Blondie barks from the carport sounded halfhearted, but clearly, she had something cornered under my car. I knew it had to be a female dog, a bitch. If it were a rat, I’d have to pry all the dogs away.
Not wanting my face too near whatever hid, I walked to the bottom of the ramp. From there I could see the outline of a fat, short coated, brown dog with little prick ears crouched by a front tire.
Blondie stood between the car and the kitchen door, her now occasional barks were followed by a whine, which told me she was losing motivation. Goody, I called Blondie in the house. She’s not a girl to give up her power; she looked long over her shoulder toward the car before heading through the open door.
Alone under the stars, I waited for chubby brown dog to stir. The light by the kitchen door allowed me to see her every move; the sweet face followed me, but she wouldn’t come out.
Lit by the Milky Way, my valley is a tropical paradise, so I walked around the yard, stared at the lake before peering in at the huddled creature under my car. Would she be here by morning?
The dogs already in their sleeping spots, only lifted heads, when I came in to go to bed. The neighbor’s dogs continued to bar another half hour.