Don't call me Stinky
"Scene from a favourite restaurant#2: Animal Burger"
For the past 2 weeks I've noticed a dejected-looking golden retriever in my estate on my way to work. It keeps its head low, and if it stood on its hind legs and had shoulders, the shoulders would be hunched. And if it had on clothes, the seats of its trousers would be worn thin - as with the balding patches near its tail. It stinks.
It had a thing for one of the houses with a black wrought-iron gate, staring at its inhabitants (as it had been the past couple of days). Once, an old lady had come out of that house, and out through the gate, to trim her sunflowers by the pavement. When she went back in through the gate, the dog merely stared. Old stinky didn't exist for the old lady. For sure, I knew this house never had a golden retriever.
Yesterday, my mom and I finally decided to foster the dog, bring it to the vet, and try to find its owner or to find it a new home. No way my mom's Rusty (aka The Killer peekapoo) would make friends with Stinky here.
"Come, come," my mom coaxed. "Come, doggie, come home."
I whistled, and tried some doggie-type names. "Nicky - Goldie - Silky - Hilary (the name of a golden retriever Lin Dai had told me went missing some time ago) - Pepper - Lucy - Cookie - Queenie." There was no response. "Doggie, come with us, doggie."
Old Stinky tracked us for about five meters, changed its mind and refused our subsequent calls to follow. Instead, it decided to persist by the unresponsive black gate. When it started to drizzle, we gave up our dog-luring efforts for the morning.
"No one in that house cares for you, Stinky." I dog-talked to Stinky, while waiting for a taxi to take me to work.
"What do you know?" Old Stinky countered. I didn't know Golden Retrievers would be so disagreeable.
"I know that the people in there are not who you think they are."
Old Stinky did not reply for some time. "He's in there somewhere." It looked at me mournfully, then fixed its more determined gaze at the house.
"I hope you are not abandoned but simply got lost."
It did not reply. My dog-language powers were fast fading.
"Hey, Stinky, you sure you don't want to bum at my house for a while?"
"No...and my name is..." It didn't look at me when it replied.
Well, my dog-language power now gone, the taxi arrived. The next time I would try to communicate with some dog food instead, and I would try to get a picture to post on the lost-&-found-dogs pages
So folks, please be kind to all animals. And if you have any advice on how to get Old Stinky to agree to being rescued, or wish to rescue it, let me know.