cry havoc

Last post! Yep, this is definitely my last guest post (for now). At some point (the mighty) Alan should return home and take back the reins of his blog. I hope I've managed to do my part in looking after the blog. I've tried to stick to topics that should be covered (or would be covered) in Alan's blog - good news, I deleted the whole political rant and the libellous attack on Phil Collins. Which means that I'm left with talking about dogs.

Here's something you can try at the next cocktail party you're at. As you mingle, occasionally nibbling on a carrot stick dipped in humus, swallowing a vol-au-vent whole, attempting to drink around the fly in your Chardonnay (wouldn't that be ironic) casually drop into conversation one of these two bon-mots:

I really don't get on with children.

I really don't get on with animals.

And discover which one makes you the most unpopular. Oddly enough, it is the not getting on with kids that is the more socially acceptable. Society tends to be quite understanding about the fact that some times people just don't like/understand children. However, casually mention that you don't like/understand animals and you can suddenly become a social pariah.

I don't really get on with animals. Don't get me wrong, I like animals, so long as they are in the wild, far away from me, or behind bars. I really don't get on with a specific group of animals, pets. Oh, it's not a medical condition, I don't suffer from allergies or asthma. I'm just not comfortable around animals. I don't like them up close.

...and this is where I alienate myself from all of Alan's readers....

Anyhoo, what I really wanted to write about was dogs, dogs in Tijuana. There are many dogs that run wild on the streets of Tijuana. They survive how they survive, and sometimes they don't. In theory I shouldn't have a problem with them (the street dogs) because at no stage do I have to put up with them sniffing my crotch, licking my face, shedding hair. However, there is one major problem with street dogs - the dawn chorus.

There's this bit in 101 Dalmatians, and I mean the original cartoon because I haven't seen the real life film, where the dogs bark at sunset? They send out a message looking for the missing puppies. I think there is a special name for it? The Dusk Discussion or something daft like that. It's been so long since I've seen the cartoon that I might have got this wrong, but bear with me. Well, that doesn't happen here. What does happen is that, round about 5am, every morning, a group of street dogs come down our street. This sets off all the dogs in people's houses - except they aren't in their owner's houses, they are outside, patrolling the grounds, waiting to bark. And bark they do. And the street dogs bark back. And total and utter bedlam ensues for the next five minutes. Every. Blummin'. Morning. Except Tuesday morning. Tuseday morning is slightly different. Tuesday is bin day, and the binmen come whenever they want. So, most people put out there rubbish on Monday night. This means that the street dogs don't just walk down our street, they stop at every bin bag for a good sniff. This means that Tuesday's bark-a-thon lasts for a good thirty minutes. I'm really not that keen on dogs, especially ones that bark at 5am every day.

And on that note, I'll finish. I hope that you've enjoyed my guest posts. If you have, you can find me here. If not, don't blame Alan.