The house in Rueil-Malmaison was the centre of
five row houses on rue Claude Debussy.
Two older couples lived on one side.
On the other side was a retired couple and, at the end, a younger couple
Jean-Michel and Dinorah. Dinorah was
American. They shared the house with
their three cats and two German Shepherds – King and Duke. Elizabeth hung the name “the Brauchten
brothers” on King and Duke in recognition of their German heritage. They shared the neighbourhood with other dogs
– Jock, a big scotch terrier across the corner and the Mad Nose Nipper on the
next block. (That is another story.)
We had it worked out with Jean-Michel and Dinorah to trade off on
walking dogs when the other family was away on holiday.
So it happened that Glen was to take King and Duke out for a
walk. Normally Glen left the house, went
around to the end of the block, down the back lane to open the gate on the
backyard fence and take King and Duke out.
As he walked serenely along the back lane Glen spied Beau, who had come
downstairs and out the swinging door in the basement. His face a mask of disgruntlement his eyes
followed Glen menacingly as he went into
the Brauchtens’ backyard.
Paws up against the fence Beau
watched as Glen put on their leashes and prepared to go for a walk. For the faithful dog, this was the insult
above and beyond all insults. His human
was taking other, foreign dogs for a walk while he languished in the backyard.
The injustice of it burned in his spirit as he barked his protest
through the back fence. Somehow, Glen failed to pick up the sense of anger and
injustice that filled the air that July evening.
Unsuspectingly, Glen walked out along the back lane with King and
Duke in tow. Past the neighbours’ house,
past our house at 5 Claude Debussy. They had just reached the next house when,
out of the corner of his eye Glen saw a Brittany spaniel take a run at the 2
metre high fence that surrounded the yard and clear it. It was a magnificent feat of athletic prowess
for a medium-sized dog.
In a flash Beau stood before the trio, eyes glaring, whining out his
protests. “What sort of master are
you? What is the meaning of this? Where are the dog abuse police when you need
them?”
The simple task of walking two German Shepherds had suddenly taken
on a new complexity. Glen had to return
the Brauchtens to their yard, take Beau home and close him up inside the house. The basement door was locked, the shutters
drawn to minimize the visual taunt and the whole walk started again.
We had a new respect for Beau’s agility, strength and
determination. And we took more
precautions when having anything to do with other dogs.
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