Salvy had a winter romance. He met a neighboring dog named Shep, and they spent days and days together. They had play dates.
On walks, Salvy would drag me toward Shep's fence, and Salvy and Shep would regard each other over the barrier--like the estranged lovers in "Miss Saigon." ("There's no room on this chopper!")
All went well, until Shep's sheep-herding instincts became a problem. Shep viewed all pedestrians as wolves--threatening his sheep. And Shep became more and more aggressive. He could knock over his own owner, in an effort to get at the "wolves."
So Shep is now at reform school, four days per week, with overnight stays. The counselors are working to reshape his spirit, to give him new skills for suburban life.
I expected Salvy might go through a period of mourning, but he has instead courted a new neighboring dog, and dates have already occurred. This feels a bit unseemly to me, like the widower who remarries within three months of his wife's death. But nature isn't always very sentimental; nature is "red in tooth and claw."
We still see Shep on weekends. I, at least, look forward to the end of the schooling, to a simpler summer life--with everyone back in the fold.
Comments
Post a Comment