A dog's story

Yesterday evening we watched a film we had recorded during the Christmas holidays (digital tv is such a wonderful innovation). It was rather windy with a threat of rain, so we decided not to spend the evening outdoors but instead liked to watch a film.

The film we saw was about a dog, Hachi, and his love for his master (a film with Richard Gere in the leading role, next to the dog, of course). Such a wonderful film! The owner dies, and the loyal dog comes to the railway station day after day (for 10 years at an end, in the film) to await his master's return with the 5 pm train.

The passengers take pity on the dog and give money to feed him. This film was based on a true story, there really was a Hachi in Japan and like the dog in the film this one waited for its master. The town's people even gave him  a statue.

The dog was a Japanese Akita, and it choose it's master. That's what animals do, you don't pick them, they pick you.

I truly believe animals have some intelligence. They know by instinct what kind of person you are. They also know more than you can comprehend. How often do you not hear about a dog or cat which saved its master from a burning house, by waking them just in time?

I never had a dog, although most dogs find me interesting. I once had a student who owned a very dangerous dog (one of the kind that bite easily and are used to attack). Well, I once met Andy while he was walking his dog and the animal immediately came to me and begged to be petted.

We had two cats at home. Our first one, Pruts, was a stray and we took it in after we had heard it several nights at an end. The little bugger was so thankful it just allowed us to do anything with him. When Pruts died, we took another cat, Pluche. Our Pluce was something of a kind! When it was still a kitten, it jumped up the table and moved around the glasses and plates, but never made anything fall down. And it climbed into the draperies and swung around like Tarzan. When my sister and I were going on a trip, he laid down in the suitcase, as if to ask to take him along. When we returned, he refused to greet us for several days. But what I thought was his most clever act, was when we did renovations in the house. The builders were around, and he could not leave the house the way he ordinarily did. So we told him he had to go through the window in the living room - and he did. When the renovations were done, he knew he could come the old way again. Now isn't that clever???