Wednesday, 22 November 2017
A woof from Bulgaria...
Around the village, near The Turrets, there are about twenty dog-walkers, and of course, we meet up at various points, depending on where the various dogs want to go!
JRT tends to go less far these days, as she's getting on a bit, but each walk has to be different, so we meet different owners as well. Banter ranges from a single hearty 'Good Morning', to a prolonged road-side discussion on the failures of the BBC/politicians/KCC etc etc, and we all enjoy the craic!
One good chum has a big dog of indeterminate breeding. His name is Cody, and he was rescued by a charity from war-torn Bulgaria a few years ago. He's a gorgeous boy, we all love him and even JRT scampers around his legs and feet, while Cody just takes not a blind bit of notice. I always stroke his head and he usually lets out a quiet whimper and enjoys the company.
The other day, Cody's dad took him up to see some new houses being built on a large estate, as my chum is thinking of downsizing, and wanted to look around. Cody went into the office with him. After a few enquiries, one of the girls behind the sales desk noticed Cody, and said what a lovely boy he was. My chum told her the story, and another girl in the office piped up, saying that she was from Bulgaria too!
She came over to talk to the dog in his 'native' language, which Cody seemed to acknowledge. They all went their separate ways after that, and returned home.
That evening Cody's mum arrived home from the train down from London. For the first time in many a year, Cody was off his food, and didn't wag his tail or show any recognition of both mum and dad. He stayed in another part of the room, and kept himself to himself all evening, staring into space.
He's back to normal now, perhaps waking up again in a secure home did the trick, but we're all convinced that by hearing the 'native' accent, dear Cody had an awful immediate recall of the dreadful pain and fear he experienced when he and many more dogs were just used as target practice.