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The greyhound tiger

September 16th 2008 23:13
greyhound tiger
Tiger tiger - where's my breakfast?

It is 7am and time for a walk. Scratchy, aka the Big Brindle, is a cool dude who doesn't like to show excitement, but walks are a Big Thing and, as the dog leads are produced, he does little hops on his front paws.

Daisy, aka Short Black, who is not constrained by considerations of coolness, goes mad, running in circles and whimpering and licking my hand and anything else within tongue-reach.

Cindy, aka Little Boss, takes Scratchy this morning, while I, aka Big Boss, take the more boisterous, lead-pulling Daisy.

Daisy finds many things to be excited about, and the corner at the end of our street is the first. As we approach it, her anticipation mounts. What will we see around the corner? A bird? A cat! Oh Great Fido in Heaven, please let us see a cat.

Scratchy is hoping to see a dog food delivery van. He's never actually seen one, but, hey, he can dream.

We turn the corner and Daisy's shoulders sag slightly at the lack of visual thrills.

But wait, a few minutes later, and we see a cat on the footpath some distance ahead. Scratchy squints. Daisy whines and tugs and licks her lips. The cat watches us serenely until, with a casual turn and a flick of its tail, it slides through the railing fence and vanishes. A whisper comes to us on the wind. "I know a dog on a lead when I see one, you walking flea farms. Bite my shadow."

And now it's a foraging magpie on the path ahead of us. It is more disdainful than arrogant. As we near, it hops behind a large rubbish bin, waiting on the footpath's edge for the Big Noisy Truck due later in the morning. Daisy sighs at her lack of freedom.

Almost home now and we bump into Jenny, our neighbour, coming out her gate with Jake, her four-year-old. Jake has not seen our dogs up close before and his eyes open wide. "I like the brown bits on the big one," he says.

"He's called a brindle but he looks like a tiger, doesn't he," says Cindy.

Jake's eyes open another notch in recognition of a great truth.

"If he went into the jungle," says Jake, "and another tiger saw him, he'd think he was a tiger."

A tiger wanting a bone, and then a sofa for a nice 10-hour nap.




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