The Dog Days Are Not Over

This is another thing I've been meaning to post for a while:  Dog Days.

You know how people have good and bad hair days?  In Thailand, you have good and bad dog days.  (And primarily terrible hair days - thank you, motorcycle helmet! - but that's beside the point.)  I'm serious.  Some days, I can waltz past the guard dogs at the gated mansions and the soi (alley) dogs who sleep in petrol station forecourts without getting so much as a dozy "woof" out of any of them.  Other days, even my neighbours' dogs - who have known me for close to a year now, and will occasionally even play fetch with me (although their concept of fetch extends only as far as "recover thrown object, and then make off with it like a douchebag") - will suddenly charge out of their front gates at me, barking their heads off and treating me like a one-woman barbarian invasion.

I've worked out that part of it is timing.  If it's after midnight, and I'm not on a motorcycle, I'm clearly wrong for that time and place, and therefore fair game.  (Found that out the hard way during a 2 am water run - *shudders*.)  But it's been known to happen in broad daylight, too.  Is it some scent that's throwing them off, like a different shampoo?  Is it my mood on those days?  Have I eaten so much crispy pork in Thailand that I now smell of it?  Who knows?

My worst dog day - well, dog night - was the first and, so far (touch wood), only time that dogs have actually chased me while I was riding my motorbike.  I was driving down a dark street, looking for a friend's house, and at the point where the paved road turned to dirt, there was a pack of soi dogs basically sprawled halfway across the road.  Holding my breath, I eased past them... but just my luck, my friend's house wasn't actually down that turn.  So I had to turn right around, and drive past the pack again.

The first time, they had raised their heads to look narrowly at me, and there had been a couple of warning growls.  But the second time - with an apparent consensus of, "Oh hell no, that bitch thinks she's coming BACK this way?  I don't believe this!" - the entire pack sprang to their feet and started baying after me.

Now, when you're being chased by dogs, your first instinct is going to be to get out of there as fast as possible.  THIS IS THE WRONG INSTINCT.  Nothing is likely to make a dog more determined to chase you than running away, and even on a motorcycle, odds are you won't be able to make your escape fast enough.  (Plus, your legs are awfully tempting targets when you're riding.)  No, my friend taught me the best response when she was giving me driving lessons.  You slow right the hell down, and as far as possible, you act relaxed.  In fact, one of the most effective ways to disarm a dog who's coming for you is to put on a big grin, pat your thighs, and babytalk to him.  I'm dead serious here.  Dogs can sense fear, and like twitchy Cold War governments, if you're afraid and poised to defend yourself, they immediately start wondering what dodgy thing you're up to.

(Hence the world's least helpful advice:  If you're afraid of dogs, stop being afraid of dogs, because otherwise they'll do scary things to you.  I've found that this is equally applicable to dating, and just as unhelpful.)

So I slowed to a crawl, and started calling out in a high voice, "Puppy-puppy!  Here puppy!"  And most of the dogs started giving me puzzled or contemptuous looks, and left off the chase.  A couple of them hung on a little longer, one even taking a couple of snaps at my heels, but when I didn't react, even he got bored.

Point:  Humanity, I think. :)

However, I was pretty shaken up, and it didn't help much when one of my local dogs decided to start playing a little game with me.  He likes to run up behind me and suddenly lunge for my ankles, like he's going to bite me - and then stop just short, huffing hot air on my feet, before running away with his tail wagging.  The first time he did this, I leapt six feet in the air, so now of course he things it's the Greatest Prank Ever.  I have dubbed him Asshat Dog.  (Actually, I had named in James Dean because he was always hanging around the motorcycle carpark, but as far as I'm concerned, he's Asshat Dog now.)

It could be a lot worse, though.  Chiang Mai dogs are comparatively mild.  One of my friends in the border town of Mae Sot is currently on a course of rabies shots after a dog there took a chunk out of her leg; they play for KEEPS in the smaller towns.

With the neighbourhood cats, I seem to be making steadier, although slower, progress.  Most of the cats who live along my route home have apparently decided that I'm okay now.  The main way I know this is that I'm now seeing them everywhere, instead of just a glimpse of a tail here and there as they dart away over fences.  The ginger cat belonging to my downstairs neighbour will actually demand ear-skritches, and occasionally lie down on my feet if I don't oblige for long enough.  My neighbours down the road have two kittens who actively tried to follow me home the other night (to be fair, I had fed them some of my fried chicken).  It makes me ridiculously happy.

All this makes a nice change from the boot-faced cat who lives at the house next to my office and hates me with the fire of a thousand suns.  I don't know whether it's the farang thing, or what the hell I did to him in a past life, but the resentment is palpable.  I even tried to bribe him with chicken.  This Did Not Go Well.

Me:  Kitteh want some chicken?  Yummy chicken!
Cat:  FUCK YOU.
Me:  *quails*
Cat:  *glares*
Me:  I'll... just leave it right here at a safe distance for you, yeah?
Cat:  DIE IN A FIRE.

It's one of those things you don't automatically expect to be different between cultures, but of course it is:  Thai people treat their animals differently than people in, say, the UK, so obviously the animals behave differently.

Incidentally, now that it's almost cold season, everyone is going to start putting shirts on their dogs again.  I can't wait. :)