I haven't met our dogs since Christmas. Not that it wold be enough time for a dog to forget a family member. But our dogs our special. Special in this sense.
So, this is the expression one of our dogs made when seeing me again:
Notice: never, never did I yell at them or hurt them. We received these dogs from someone in the family who had an affair with dog breeding. Now, she wasn't the most responsible of all people in the world. Thus, the dogs, disregarding every taboo concerning such matters of delicacy, engaged in coitus in all possible combinations across the ladder of relatives. Thus, our dogs entered this pity plane of existence.
They are neat, strong and healthy dogs. They play with each other, hunt in the large garden and bell at other dogs. But they get frightened by everything. Would they escape if the front door would be open? Oh no, not them! Sooner would they close the door just to avert anything new and potentially scary coming in. A window gets shut by the wind suddenly? "Flee, you fools!" - their eyes say to me as the agony of fear deforms their little faces.
This general fright extends to me as well. As I'm visiting at home only a few times a year they consider me a special, unpleasant phenomena they have to endure from time-to-time. The only person they have a close relationship with is my mom who takes care of them. In their case having emotions towards my mom means that they don't run away from her and let her stroke their backs.
Nevertheless, I like the dogs. They make the garden vivid, they interact with us in their special way, eyeing me suspiciously all the time. As the days pass they come closer and closer to me. I like to feed them. This does not mean much for them, but I feel like caring for them.
We had wonderful dogs long ago. Social, funny, silly, crazy, talented, extremely clever and sensitive dogs. True leaders, great cowards. All sorts. They were all personalities. Now we have this lot, the five of them. And it's great they are here.
