18 June 2008

on blokes and dogs...

This is what I wrote in an email two days ago:

Zacchi did a PB (personal best) this morning, we went for a jog with him off the lead, and he was well behaved. Might try again tomorrow, he just loves to be free but had become too naughty and would scamper off just as I bent to put the lead on him, stuff like that. He is soooo fast! We went out at 5.30am so no cars to bother us.

Yesterday, had I been at the computer, I would have written:

Zacchi is grounded yet again. We went up to the "big house" to sort the washing after the NZ tenants left, and Zacchi, who thinks that the front part of the house is haunted, scarpered with his lead on. I called and called, sure that he would come home, but worried about him getting the lead caught somewhere. (Somehow in my training I didn't manage to achieve what horse trainers do, getting him to stand still with the lead dangling where there is nothing to attach it too).

Night came, no Zacchi. People passed (walkers stroll until after midnight now that summer is really here) and no-one had seen Zacchi. It got later and later. Dogs barked up and down the valley. I contemplated driving, but where would I look? He was more likely to be up a little street with no car access, chasing cats.

All night I was up to the window, calling, hoping he would at least find his way back to our house if not to the one I was in. I imagined him caught on something, being attacked by the stray dogs that roam the town. I imagined him hit by a car, lying wounded. I imagined him whimpering.

At 5am I sensed something. I listened. Nothing. But I was sure he was there. I went to the window and softly called "Zacchi". I was rewarded with a "Woof". I unlocked the door at the top of the steps. There was another woof and a scratch scratch. I pulled on the chord that unlocks the door at the bottom of the steps. I started to go down to open it. The door flew open and a hairy ragamuffin bowled up the steps, whole body wagging, the little head already turned in grovelling position.

He slept all day. Didn't move from the step. I think my little puppy is now a dog.

And like every gorgeous Italian man, the mutt expects to be forgiven! Forget it mate, you are well and truly grounded! This kiwi girl has different rules!


A week or so ago I met a bloke who suggested we might become very good friends. My well-honed antennae said "married, married". Mutual friends gave him my number. He called. He texted. I refused to meet for coffee. He asked if I was afraid of him. He said he wouldn't eat me. I texted that I was working, not on holiday. He apologised for bothering me. Call me when you are free, he wrote. I deleted his messages and forgot about him.

I saw him in the street again yesterday.

You didn't call me, he complained. No, I replied, I didn't. I don't need any problems in my life, I said, it is difficult enough living in another culture without making my life more complicated.

He couldn't see any issues other than a language barrier, and that of course was no problem. I (only just) resisted asking if his wife would come for coffee too. I wont bother you, he said, but please call me when we can meet. I walked away. Wait, he said, will you call me?

Penso di no, I replied. (I think not). I didn't apologise. He should be grounded too.

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