From where I sit, I can see him. A small, white creature, ears erect, running around the open courtyard, uncontrollably happy little yelps issuing forth. From the moment he awakens, I can see him sniffing around the compound in wonder at the various scents that attract and repel him. Prancing around chasing birds and butterflies that enter his domain.

He wears a collar that the people who live in the outhouse of the bungalow have thoughtfully put around his neck. That does not hide his questionable ancestry though. He is surely a stray, most probably the outcome of a chance encounter between nobility and a saucy wench. Which would account for his white coat.

I have no idea what name he responds to. Since his caretakers are not particularly well-to-do, he is fed the leftovers. But he is a tough guy, as most mixed-breeds are. He can hold his own in a conclave of the bigger strays that roam the street. Because of the company he keeps, he has this habit of scratching himself ever so often. I don’ think he is brushed or bathed regularly, preferring to gambol in the water that collects where the dishes are washed.

I suppose when he grows up, he will have the pick of the bitches in the neighbourhood. Perhaps even the pedigreed ones.

I am reminded of another dog. He is called Rusty because of the colour of his coat. I know he is a highly pedigreed Irish Setter and his owner has a large bungalow. Rusty can call himself a property owner too as he has a doghouse. The sad thing about Rusty is that he spends the whole day tied to a small, short leash which does not give him much space to move. You could say he is perpetually in the doghouse. He is not allowed inside the bungalow as his owners are very house-proud and do not relish the thought of his bounding around knocking things over or dirtying their prized possessions. Rusty ofcourse is fed the best of dogfood,
Being highly pedigreed, he is prone to all manner of illness and is then treated by the best vet in town.

He is as good-natured as the stray I just mentioned. It’s just that I can’t help feeling sorry for him. The doggy equivalent of a bird in a gilded cage.

He has’nt been mated yet. They could’nt find a bitch of the same pedigree I hear.

I don’t know about you, but if push came to shove and the Good Lord made me a dog and offered me a choice, I would rather be the stray. Any day.