Thursday, 8 October 2009

Gussy has a fright.

Well it wasn't the hugest of frights, but for a little doggy such as Gussy, it was quite big.

So on our walks through the maize fields we pass a field of big white cows, of various ages and with various sizes of babies. Gus being Gus is very interested in these cows, but the thought of explaining to the farmer why his herd stampeded out of their field has ensured that Gus always remained on the lead whenever we passed them. Explaining in English is just about do-able. Explaining in French isn't. So on lead he stays.

Gussy had a 'moment' with one them yesterday: Close to the fence, it was easy for Gus to slip through the fence, still on lead though, to have a closer look at them. Being a youngster he has not yet learnt the lesson of mortality. That there are situations which need avoiding or treating with respect if he isn't going to get done unto death. In other words he has a fearlessness which all youngsters, even human youngsters, have.

Brazen and cocky, he stood and stared at the baby cow nearby. That scampered away, to be replaced by the biggest of the cows, the matriarch of the herd. She approaced Gus. But you know what? I really don't think he realises how small he is. I truly think he thinks he is huge, as big as Bools, or me, or the cows. So he goes head to head, nose to nose, tongue to tongue with the cow. Gentle she was. Pushing out her tongue to give him a lick across the nose. Gus responded by doing the same. Ah sweet!

And that rat bucket of a dog went and spoiled the moment by springing backwards and yelling at the cow that he wasn't frightened of her at all, and 'I can beat you up', and all sorts of nonsense he yelled at her. She stood her ground. Looked at me. And we swapped a moment of feminine awareness: that youngsters are really a perishing nuisance sometimes.

A wet walk today. Rain last night which will hopefully start the grass seed growing in the fields, and a bit of a drizzle as we headed out. Cows past. Quite a distance away by the time we reached the maize field path, so let Gussy off. Off he shot, galloping away as fast as his little legs will carry him, nose to ground to catch any nice smells, making his back legs sort of look as if they don't belong to him. He doesn't look exactly elegant when he is running! I don't call him back. He needs to stretch his legs. And then I saw him to a sharp left turn. 'B*****r', I thought, 'he looks like he's heading......' And yes. He was.

In the distance I saw the outer members of the herd suddenly turn and start running towards the others. I couldn't see Gus, but knew he was the mischief-maker. 'Oh well' I though. 'Can't do anything about that. If he gets kicked then it will serve him right. And if he makes that herd stampede then he is really going to get told off, and it will be on the lead forever after for him'. 'The little s***t,' was the foremost thought though.

The herd was gathering together. From out of the herd members came three cows, at speed, with heads down, as if to charge an enemy, which was presumably Gus.

I saw Gus racing towards me across the fields with much speed. Wagging his tail as he neared me, he looked relieved to be safe again. And it came to me that this little pest of a dog has just learnt one of the valuable lessons in life: that there are times when it is best not to cause a ruckus, and that one should be respectful of the size of other beings on this planet if one is not going to get a dreadful fright.

He stayed closer than what he has done during the rest of his off-lead time, and frequently looked back to check where Bools and me were.

We all have to learn such lessons, oh perhaps not in regards to being friendly enough with a cow so she can give us a lick and we can give her a lick back, but in not making waves when the hand of friendship is offered.