Mad Dogs

There's a pack of wild dogs living near the bus stop up the street near my house. Actually of course, they roam around quite a bit, being wild dogs and all.

The dog packs in Bangkok were much more exotic -- they were all diseased and scrofulous, with their brains hanging out, covered with open sores, blind, etc. The Russian wild dogs actually appear to be pretty handsome animals -- retriever-type mutts, generally pretty good sized. GENERALLY, they're pretty well-behaved, as the old women around here toss them scraps of food and bones, etc. And of course they can devour the odd fallen old person or passed-out drunk. GENERALLY, I don't fear them.

But they're big, and they have sharp teeth, and there are a lot of them. And I don't know if it's a seasonal thing -- time to fuck -- or if they all have rabies, or if they're all running out of food, but the bastards are sure getting aggressive. A big one -- it's head reached my waist -- started crazily barking at me today, and then snapped at the back of my coat.

I tried to bark back and assume an alpha male stance, but he didn't buy it. So I threw some snowballs at them and they went into a frenzy, and then ran off.

Of course there's nothing like a local dog catcher or anything.

If this is the last entry -- it was the dogs.