I Live in a neighborhood where people come out in the evening to walk their dogs, because these dogs speak (I think) they need to walk with their owners in the evening and have a talk about the last T bone their master served them for supper or the oatmeal they were dished for breakfast that didn’t have enough milk….folks these dogs are classy, they drive their masters cars with hats put backwards and donning black designer shades.
After this walk, they probably head home, heat a hot shower and stay in the bathtub wagging their tail over warm beer, explains why they have pot bellies….have you seen a mongrel with a pot belly? No you cant, because feeding on polythene bags gives them a distended stomach such that they end up looking like relics of some extinct dinosaur skeleton. The breeds that stroll the estate in the evening are pure pedigrees, chihuahuas, Caucasian shepherds, South Africa Boerboels, sausage dogs (the names are not Chinese, and they are very real by the way) ..but why would these dogs need a walk when they seem like they need the gym more? they can lift weights I bet,..they have grizzly hair and have “Tough looking dogfaces”. They are touted as different from the rest, the other dogs fear them so, they scamper whenever these dogs hit the vicinity.
These canines have personal doctors, who perhaps prescribes a small dosage of medicinal Bhang for their own personal use on Fridays, so that when they sit to catch the next episode of “How i met your mother”, they laugh their tear glands off as they munch on steak besides the master’s seat. Even the Chinese wouldn’t dare eat this kind of Dogs, they are “comrades”, a mans best friend is far-fetched, they are viewed as “kaka Mbwa”, but the word ” Mbwa” is too crude.
These creatures have a more than sentimental value to their owners, they have a bond, an emotional bond with their masters.they are almost viewed as equals. Let’s call them fancy names like Bobby, Ken, Brian..you know…when you call `em you say something like “Bobby would you like a bath now?” Bobby wags his tail and instead of yapping that whoof gibberish mongrels are all about, it would respond,” ah sure Bill, I was thinking you were never going to ask”..after the bath Bobby trots to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, muttering stuff like.”Bill its cold out here, I need to warm up,..can I also get an extra blanket?”.
I am tempted to imagine they also don’t stay in kennels, way too fancy for such, they would die from pneumonia anyway out in the cold. Times like this, when the weather pulls a feisty mood, they are sited in a warm custom-made bed, hot cocoa in paw, and a jumper in tow, their glassy eyes staring out through the window at some mongrel across the street feeding on a rotten Avocado remains, tail tucked between the body from the cold. I could blabber on and on but if you have never walked a dog, you wouldn’t understand squat,..ask perennial “Mongrel” walkers like my good friend Christabel Tots Ndunge.
You can also read >> One Night Stand! – Part 3,4 & 5
