*Yes that’s a picture of a cat. He’s more photogenic than the dog. So there.
The Arabian Dog is a stray. A mongrel with a Saluki’s long nose, and cartoonish almond eyes. He has a long, fluffy haired body of browns, whites, blacks, and blondes. His legs are disproportionately short, knees an inch or two from his puppy paws.
He kept me awake last night, howling with his doggy chums, but I don’t mind. I’m developing some kindred with the neighbourhood strays. The flee ridden and malarial-mouthed, the unwanted and languageless. They are foul smelling beasts with eyes that surpass etiquette and social norms. And I feel a famility with them.
Today he came to lick muddy water from the olive tree roots. Confused by my reluctance to touch him, he ran between my legs and stumbled in front of me as I brought him fried chicken from lunch. He nibbled it, shoved it, and finally picked it up with his baby front teeth, brandishing it like a trophy as he ran across the street. Under the olive tree, he dug a hole. He placed the chicken in it, and covered it over meticulously with that Arabian snout.
Then there’s his cousin in the wilderness – the original Smelly Cat. I tried to wash him so he could be loved by all, but it’s not meant to be.