Woof! Woof! Thud! Yelp! Yelp! Yelp!

Tony and I needed to meet an old friend of ours over a very important business issue. As we had not met him for ages we were unaware as to whether he was still around. We had to make enquiries.

However we were fortunate enough to be able to trace his whereabouts. We telephoned him and made an appointment to meet up with him the following day, and he gave us directions on how to get to his residence.

The next day, we drove past the landmark that he spoke of, and as directed by him, we turned into the very second lane thereafter.

Within a few moments we saw his name engraved on a metal plate and cemented at eye level on to the front wall of his house.

We drove a few meters past his house to a shady spot and parked. Then Tony pulled out his mobile phone put it on the speaker mode and dialled our friend to indicate to him that we were just outside his premises.

Our friend said to us that he will be down in a jiffy as he had just finished his shower.

So we got off the car, walked back and stood leaning on the rear part of the vehicle with our arms folded, looking in the direction of our friend's house, expecting him to come out any moment.

I was trying to recollect the last meeting we had with him, and I guess Tony's mind was focused on something else.

The gate was slightly ajar, which enabled a tiny view into his premises, part of the numberplate of his car was visible.

Then suddenly something got in-between his numberplate and our vision. That something wedged itself into the gap caused by the gate being ajar.

This enabled the gap to widen even further, and all of a sudden a big black brute darted out of the gate and headed straight for us!

Thundering typhoons! It was jet black, with white teeth, and made a sound as if two roughly perforated sheets of metal were rubbed together with intense force ... and it came straight at us, and within a fraction of a second I shut my eyes and dashed back to the car, grabbed the handle of the door and opened it and dived onto the seat.

I then pulled my feet in as fast as I could, and banged the door shut. Tony did likewise. Fortunately we were both equidistant from the respective doors of the car.

Then, and only then did we realize that our friend had reached the gate in the nick of time, yelled out the name of the brute, halted him in his tracks, and was now in control.

He called out to us saying as loud as he could, "just a minute, I'll back in a few seconds."

Inside the car it took a few seconds to get over the shock of nearly being ripped to pieces.

When we came to our senses, while still seated inside, Tony and I looked at each other at the same time.

Then I said to Tony, "Woof! Woof! Thud! Yelp! Yelp! Yelp!"

He nodded wholeheartedly, in full agreement!

A few days later, when on the phone talking to Tony, I brought out the subject of dogs and expressed my confusion as to why dogs were constantly being referred to as man's best friend.

His delay in responding made me think that Tony was sipping a drink. He was.

When he finished the long gulp, he re-commenced the conversation. He said, "woof! woof! thud! yelp! yelp! yelp!" I agreed wholeheartedly.

One a different occasion, due to our house being renovated, we had to seek shelter elsewhere for a short period of time.

We checked out several annexes in the clasified ads section in the local newspapers, and then on a Saturday went along house hunting. Possibly the tenth house we saw suited us pretty well.

There was parking space, a small area for our flower pots, and two spacious rooms upstairs with annexed wash rooms, and a kitchen with a dining area.

The ground floor had a sitting area large enough to accommodate our sitting room furniture, and an extra wash room as well. However there was just one problem.

The entrance to our landlord's section and our annex was common. One common gate which leads to the entrance of both houses.

This is what prompted my sister to suggest that we should have a look at the other places on our list as well.

So, we thanked the landlord, and left, saying we would get in touch after we check out the rest of the places on the list.

We returned home, hoping to resume our quest the following day. Then ... just before our dinner, the the door-bell rings, and I hear my sister greeting someone loudly and warmly.

I rushed downstairs to see who it was, and I found that it was the landlord of the annex with the common entrance.

He said he wanted to have a word with us. He was with his wife and kid.

So we asked them in and beckoned them to seat themselves. They sat ... and then we exchanged a few pleasantries.

He then announced that he and his wife would love to have us as their tenants, and if we had not already made a decision on some other property, he requested us to seriously consider theirs.

The fact that they had remembered the name of the lane down which we live and had actually taken the trouble to seek and find us, told us the importance they had placed in being selective of their tenants.

Instantly my sister and I looked at each other and she knew what was on my mind and I knew what was on hers. Our decision was unanimous.

However, we said to the landlord that we will call him the following morning to confirm our decesion although we were now 90% in its favor.

Selecting that annex would also save us the hassle of going around the following day checking out the various other properties on our list.

They left happily knowing that we were convinced. Before they did, the landlord said "of course there is a dog as well, but most of the time he will be in the kennel behind the main house."

Blow! ... Dog! ... But ... "most of the time he would be the occupant of that kennel in the backyard ... "

"No problem," sis said, "the dog would be in the kennel most of the time." So with that assurance on our minds, we telephoned them the following day and confirmed.

This will save us a lot of time too! That was important. A dog that won't get in the way would not matter at all. We continued with our packing!

Our first day was pleasant. We heard the "woof woof" behind the main house. No problem at all.

However, on the third day, when I returned home at seven in the evening and approached the main gate, there it was!

A grey colored brute between the main gate and the entrances of the two houses. Barking furiously, barking as if that was his last day on this planet.

I pulled out my mobile phone and dialled my landlord's number. His mother-in-law answered, apologised, came out, led the dog in, apologised, let me in, and apologised once more!

That's it! That's the way it's gonna be, and that's the way it was ... for the next few months.

The business I was in, requires that vendors, distributors, agents and all involved meet often.

The result is that at least twice a month there is a big event which is held late in the evening, and which I always joyfully attend.

There we meet up with friends, and have a real great time. Of course when the function is over, we don't return home at once.

We drive about the city, and explore the culinary delights of the various restaurants in the main city, and almost always have another late night meal ... or two! It is usually around three in the morning that most of us reach home.

That month, one of the biggest agents was hosting a cocktail, and I was looking forward to it like everyone else. One thing that bothered me was, if I request my landlord not to put the dog out on that particular day, will they comply with my request and keep the dog in the kennel till three in the morning until I return?

They had previously agreed to let him out only after 10PM. But, on occasions when we had visitors, they let him out only after our visitors left, not being too happy about it though, as one of them had to stay awake for that purpose.

Well, I was contemplating as to how I could make that request. Even if I do, and even if they agree, will they really comply?

Of course If they don't, I could always call them from outside the gate when I get back, and alert them. They would surely apologise saying it was an error.

This was actually bothering me a lot. Even at the function my mind would be on that issue. How do I sort this out? I needed to decide fast what to do. It took me several days to take that decision.

I did make that decesion in the end. I decided to stay back home instead of attending that cocktail.

Woof! Woof! THUD! Yelp! Yelp! Yelp!

We did not move back to our former premises, but instead had the opportunity to move to a better house in a different area. Here the parking space was common. At the end of the lane there was a large undeveloped piece of land where there was a couple of abandoned shacks. On the far side was where all the occupants of the houses in that lane parked their vehicles.

There was a group of stray dogs occupying these shacks. There were actually twelve of them. They hang around in the vicinity and casually roam about the area. Our house was one before the last in this lane, and thus we were close to this community of dogs.

On the day we moved in, the dogs expressed some curiosity. However they did not really bother us. As the weeks passed, we noticed that when a stranger enters the area, thay all start barking in chorus ... or I guess cacophony is a better word!

Most of the occupants of the houses down this lane used to feed these dogs with whatever food that was left over.

It wasn't long before my sister too joined in.

As soon as she returns home, she sorts out the leftovers, tweaks them up, micro waves them, and places them on a large metal tray.

This was one of the trays that was meant for the purpose of placing under flower pots.

However it came in quite handy this time. My sister used to place this dish at a particular spot near the shacks.

When the dogs finish eating, the tray is brought back, rinsed in the garden tap and placed amongst the flower pots once more.

There were occasions when I too carry the tray to these dogs. This became frequent. I volunteered most of the time to do this just to save my sister the trouble.

I noticed that at all times, these dogs simply ignore the residents of the area and the residents do likewise. They bark only when an outsider visits the area.

This was really good from my point of view as I did not want to be in any dog's top ten. I really did not want to transact friendship with dogs.

However, I used to carry the tray of food because I wanted to spare my sister of this assignment.

Besides, the satisfaction of knowing that food is not wasted was also an incentive. The only reaction the dogs make when I take the food tray up to them was a little bit of tail wagging.

I used to sense that they wanted me to just drop the tray and get the hell out of there as fast as I can so that they can get cracking on the food.

One day, I got back home from the supermarket having purchased the groceries required for the next few days. I got off the vehicle with all the shopping things in my hands, and pushed the door shut with my elbow.

The driver then whizzed off to the parking lot. With all the stuff in my hands, I stepped forward to reach the buzzer on my gate to alert my sister. I had to make one hand free for this.

On doing so, a watermelon slipped out from one of the grocery bags and rolled a few meters forward, further away from my gate. I stepped over there and bent down to retrieve the fruit.

Then ... all of a sudden I sensed ... a pack of twelve dogs ... all around me ... forming a semi-circle ... with me as the principle focus! All of them with their tails wagging like hell ... all of them in chorus "can we help you sir?" ... "is there anything we can do for you sir?"

Woof! Woof!

Sure! Be my guest!

... concluded

Barking dogs are a real menace. In a quiet neighbourhood the sound of a dog barking somewhere really spoils everything. Training dogs not to bark is possible they say. I have come across advertisements on websites on pets which indicate that there are downloadable e-books on dog training which include instructions on how to prevent your dog from barking.

I have heard the expression that barking dogs don't bite, but I am certainly not interested in finding out for myself. Barking dogs are viewed by everyone as dangerous dogs as the thundering sounds that emanate from the throat of a barking dog is actually a warning sign to keep your distance.

The dog in the picture on to the right and below is a stray one that hangs around near the entrance to our housing complex. Most of the time he is curled up and asleep. The security guards on duty at the entrance used to feed him.

He is a shy guy. Whenever I walk past him I used to say "dog!" ... then he gets up and hurries away. These pictures were taken around the end of May 2009 AD. It was not all that easy to get him to pose. When he saw me approaching, he just got up and hurried away. Somehow I managed to click a couple of times. It is evident from the pictures that he is moving away!

However of late I noticed a red band round his neck. The guys who occupy one of the houses near the main entrance have domesticated him. Now he's sure to be fed well! ... Woof!