Tuesday, June 22, 2004
The bastard killed the dog.
The little puppy on the compound would come up to greet me and dance around my feet when I got back from work. He would nip at my legs and tug at my sarong whenever I went across the compound to the toilet. If I stopped and turned round he would look up at me with mischievous eyes and cock his head in a "Well? Are you going to give in and play with me then?" look. His ribs poked through his tick-infested breast and his legs seemed too thin to support him as he wobbled unsteadily about the compound. His bark was pleading, an almost perfect Walt Disney cartoon "rowf" and he'd use it whenever a cat or other stranger came close. I was the only person he would voluntarily approach. Everybody else would kick at him if he got too near. He was maybe four months old. And now he's dead.
The bastard killed him.
I came back from work on Friday 11th June and there was a dead chicken lying in the middle of the compound. It wasn't bloody, and the chickens had been sick, so I assumed it had caught whatever virus was going around. I told Berhani, Gabriella's husband, and thought nothing of it. Later, while Isak was round for a chat, Daniel returned. He's in his early twenties, a relative of Mama Gabriella's and he's currently living at her house. Isak and I carried on chatting until we heard the puppy yelping. It's often getting kicked at and nothing I've said has stopped anybody so I assumed it was that. But the yelping continued and got louder and louder and more desperate. Isak got up and went ouside to see what was going on. I heard him shouting in Tigrinya while the puppy continued to cry. Then then welping stopped and there was silence. Isak came back into my house. "He's killed it." Isak couldn't stay, he was too angry. He just said that he would come back later when he had calmed down. As I went out into the compound with him there was Daniel, sitting by the side of my house with a big grin on his face.
The murderous bastard was actually enjoying himself.
I scowled at him and went inside. The rest of that night I ran through what I could have done to save the dog, and what I could do to Daniel in revenge. But it's all futile. I didn't think he would ever kill the puppy. I might have saved it that time if I'd gone out sooner but I think he would have killed it when I wasn't there. Finally, the puppy's life was miserable: it was starved and kicked and tied up and ticks were hanging from its body. There is nobody here that I could trust to treat a dog well, nor anybody to turn to who could deal with its tormentors. Nevertheless, I feel weak and impotent. I feel sick that I sat in my room while the bastard beat a helpless, harmless puppy to death.
The little puppy on the compound would come up to greet me and dance around my feet when I got back from work. He would nip at my legs and tug at my sarong whenever I went across the compound to the toilet. If I stopped and turned round he would look up at me with mischievous eyes and cock his head in a "Well? Are you going to give in and play with me then?" look. His ribs poked through his tick-infested breast and his legs seemed too thin to support him as he wobbled unsteadily about the compound. His bark was pleading, an almost perfect Walt Disney cartoon "rowf" and he'd use it whenever a cat or other stranger came close. I was the only person he would voluntarily approach. Everybody else would kick at him if he got too near. He was maybe four months old. And now he's dead.
The bastard killed him.
I came back from work on Friday 11th June and there was a dead chicken lying in the middle of the compound. It wasn't bloody, and the chickens had been sick, so I assumed it had caught whatever virus was going around. I told Berhani, Gabriella's husband, and thought nothing of it. Later, while Isak was round for a chat, Daniel returned. He's in his early twenties, a relative of Mama Gabriella's and he's currently living at her house. Isak and I carried on chatting until we heard the puppy yelping. It's often getting kicked at and nothing I've said has stopped anybody so I assumed it was that. But the yelping continued and got louder and louder and more desperate. Isak got up and went ouside to see what was going on. I heard him shouting in Tigrinya while the puppy continued to cry. Then then welping stopped and there was silence. Isak came back into my house. "He's killed it." Isak couldn't stay, he was too angry. He just said that he would come back later when he had calmed down. As I went out into the compound with him there was Daniel, sitting by the side of my house with a big grin on his face.
The murderous bastard was actually enjoying himself.
I scowled at him and went inside. The rest of that night I ran through what I could have done to save the dog, and what I could do to Daniel in revenge. But it's all futile. I didn't think he would ever kill the puppy. I might have saved it that time if I'd gone out sooner but I think he would have killed it when I wasn't there. Finally, the puppy's life was miserable: it was starved and kicked and tied up and ticks were hanging from its body. There is nobody here that I could trust to treat a dog well, nor anybody to turn to who could deal with its tormentors. Nevertheless, I feel weak and impotent. I feel sick that I sat in my room while the bastard beat a helpless, harmless puppy to death.
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