By David Simmons
I like dogs but never owned one until
recently, because they are so much more labour-intensive than cats.
And the mutt living at my expense now is not a real dog, just a
Pomeranian.
Still, they are fascinating creatures.
Ours is called Khao Pan, because when he was a pup he resembled a
bowl of sticky rice (a staple Thai dish) more than a living being.
His intelligence is quite remarkable.
Cats are probably just as bright (debate rages on the subject) but
are so self-centred it’s hard to tell. Dogs are an open book.
Khao Pan is less than a year old but
understands the distinct personalities of everyone in our household,
and modifies his behaviour accordingly. He knows I’m way too old
and out of shape to play with him like the kids do, so after I get
tired of tossing his plastic ball around after two minutes he
understands and settles down.
He gets up before everyone else and my
wife lets him outside to play in the garden, yelling at him later for
destroying her jasmines. When the kids get up for school, he probably
messes around with them and probably rides with them as my wife
drives them to school – I’m not sure, I’m still in bed at that
hour.
When I do get up, he comes in, fusses
around until I pet him, lies on his back so I’ll scratch his belly,
then curls up under my desk as I check e-mail, watch the news, and
avoid doing much else until my shift starts in the afternoon.
I still miss my cat Onet, who got run over
shortly after Khao Pan moved in, too soon for us to learn if the two
would ever become friends (it seemed unlikely at the time). But this
ball of fluff, this quasi-canine, has been an acceptable, maybe even
welcome, addition to the family.
