Through the clotted grey that Friday
afternoon, I spot he, the dawg.
Don't know if he been shopping for
food or what, there he been, in front o' the supermarket, by the roadside, at
the top o' the hand-size parking-lot that hold ten cars.
Ain't nothing special about he, just
a plain ol' kangalang, a couriat, a brown mongrel. All o' we
stray dawgs is a variation o' brown. White dawgs is rare. Black 'n' brown ones
is regular. But brown is the most popular colour.
Something was different about this
dawg though.
Wasn't the fact that he was shine like he was getting regular food.
He was flashin' out in a striped
tee-shirt. Never mind that it was a' old, hang-down, wash-out, black 'n' white
'n' yellow tee. You just don't see dawgs in clothes in these parts.
I stand there amused, a li'l worried,
looking at he.
Along come a man, a long, lean, fifty-something
years old man of mixed ancestry. I hear-say he useta live in Englan'. I does greet
he good morning as he pass me working
in we garden. I get to saying hi because o' the Exceptional Dog he does take
care of, walking it every morning.
The Exceptional Dog is as big as a cow-calf,
and is barely a year old; he got fur so luxurious-long, I hope Peta don't pelt
he with paint to protest...y'know how controversial they can be.
The Exceptional-Dog walking-man surprise
me that gloomy aftanoon. I thought he
would be a dog-snob after dealing with such a high-brow dog.
But he stop in mid-stride, look at me
looking at the tee-shirt dawg.
He look at de dawg. He grey eyes shine like blue. He grin.
"Eh-eh, you wearing a nice
tee-shirt there, man, a fancy tee-shirt," he say.
I laugh and move closer to the dawg to
examine the tee-shirt.
A GAP label on the neck pop
into me eye-sight so sudden, I nearly fall down.
The dog turn to the road, lift one
paw. He had a li'l anxious look on he face.
"You think it is hurt?" I ask.
"No, he ain't hurt. He just
uncomfortable with the tee-shirt, he not accustomed to it."
Suddenly, another voice call from the quiet of the aftanoon. Outta the corner o' me eye I glimpse
a man strolling on, shoulder-length locks and baggy clothes.
"Where ya pants, man?" he call
out.
8 comments:
First! You have style savvy animals, thought i'd have gone for Gucchi.
That is one highfaluting dog!! Even I can't afford a Gap tee shirt!!!
I never write LOL, because lauging out loud isn't something I really do. In this case, though, I did utter an audible chuckle... ;)
"Where ya pants, man?"
that's precisely what I was thinking. There's something a bit rude about just a tee shirt.
Sucks to Peta. If it gets any colder I'm gonna drag out my ancient mink. And wear it.
Pat, a semi-nude dawg is a bit rude, yes, indeed.
Oooh la la, mink. In the movies, the most glamorous women wear mink and seduce handsome men in beautiful houses by lakes in Switzerland.
Well, that's how I write the plot.
Kim, I'm a disgrace. I tend to laugh out loud. But I write HAHAHA instead of LOL.
Sooshie, I think the tee-shirt was donated to the dawg. What a lucky dawg.
JohnG, with shorts too, I hope!
I used to have a mongrel dog who looked like a worn out hearth rug. After he was ill once I bought him a stripey T-shirt to keep him warm. Even when he recovered he always wore this T-Shirt everywhere, he wouldn't go for walkies without it!
Keith, that is so cute!
You say he looked like a worn out hearth rug.
After you bought him that tee-shirt, he knew he looked like a proper dawg, so naturally, he wouldn't let it go.
Eh eh them dog this gone up in Guyana...
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