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Friday, March 28, 2003 I see very few cats in Madrid. There don't seem to be many households with a resident feline, and apart from some feral kitties I've seen in el Retiro, Madrid's version of Central Park, I can count on one hand the number of times I've encountered any outside of an apartment building, whether hanging about in the streets or putting in time as a working cat in a storefront. Dogs, on the other hand -- Madrileños love dogs and it shows, ‘cause they're everywhere, a fundamental element of the scene. Most every time I pass through the plaza down the street, dogs are an animated part of the flow of life that streams through the space. One dog, at minimum, pretty much regardless of the time of day -- often several, having close encounters of one kind or another with their happy, panting peers. This morning: got out reasonably early to the gym. Returned just before 11, picked up a paper and stopped into the plaza cafetería for café and churros. When I stepped back out into the mild air, a flurry of loud, strident yapping exploded to my left. Two little dogs -- one small hairy bugger, the kind whose eyes are invisible behind long shaggy bangs, and one teeny, almost microscopic critter, looking to be a member of the chihuahua clan -- both mouthing off angrily at something around the corner, out of my line of sight, down the pedestrian way that leads out of the square to a nearby street. Creating a huge amount of noise, especially the smaller of the two, as it moved challengingly in the direction of whatever had gotten its ire up. Until it realized it had gotten itself into something that might have consequences and began a hasty retreat, barking less, though the other one, the one that hang back by the relative safety of the news kiosk, continued with the noise. And then a German shepherd surged into view from along the walkway -- a big one, with the unmistakable air of a creature you mess with at the risk of physical damage -- straining at its leash toward the two teeny nitwits, not barking, but making deep, intense sounds of a seriously threatening nature, serious enough that the chihuahua hurriedly skidded over to its little hairy friend, who also began retreating. Clearly, if the big boy got free, the two smartmouths would be in a heap of trouble, and they knew it. Their vocalizing became more tentative, they tried hiding behind each other, and when that didn't make them feel any safer they tried finding shelter behind a human or two. Attempting to save as much face as possible with the occasional yip, but clearly understanding that they were completely out of their league. The shepherd's owner pulled it past the kiosk, keeping the big dog a safe distance away from the two now-terrified canine midgets, and when its human had gotten it past the newsstand, the shepherd turned its attention to more relaxed pasttimes (the canine signatures left at the base of a bench, then a lamppost), until its owner gave its leash a tug and they both moved on. The two little dogs did their best to forget their brush with death, ranging out from the kiosk once the coast was clear, looking up at passing people, leaning forward to sniff at human feet that moved past. I moved off, walking along the west side of the plaza, where several people were clustered together in the warm morning sunlight, chatting, reading the morning paper. Two leashed dogs stood with those folks, both of a size halfway between the shepherd and the furry sea monkeys that had started all the racket on the plaza's far side. Both enjoying the sun, calmly looking around, listening to the various human and canine sounds washing by. Minding their own business, appearing completely satisfied with where the morning had so far taken them. I rounded the corner and headed away from the plaza, just one of many people walking along the late-morning street. Friday, late March, nearly midday. The moments passing as they do, life moving on. rws 12:15 PM [+]
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