Visions of Greece

Anonymous

Today, I felt like a hero.

I also felt like an arse.
Here is the story of the Heroarse.

In Greece, the stray dogs follow tourists around, partly out of a longing for a pack, partly out of the need for attention, and partly in search of things to eat. Tonight, we recognized one that we had seen before -- it was a particularly pushy black & white dog that strolled out purposefully to the front of a courtyard and barking at oncoming passersby, trying to scare them into clearing our holy path.

Three times tonight I had to wrestle the dog off from attacking old men carrying sticks. When the dog saw a cane or umbrella, he lashed out and viciously barked. It wasn't a friendly bark, it was the kind of bark that you feel in half an hour.

I don't know what that means, but I'm falling asleep and that was the third time I tried to write that sentence. My eyes close and I end up writing about something else entirely. The point is that the progression probably goes like this:
1. The dog saw the cane,
2. The dog remembered an old man from the past who hit him with a cane,
3. The dog preemptively strikes out at the cane-bearer
4. The cane-bearer defends himself with the cane, hitting the dog until it leaves,
5. Rinse and repeat.

At any rate, I'm a hero because this particularly daft mutt attacked three men around the Acropolis and the Plaka while he was following us. Each time I tried to stand in between the dog and the man. I attempted to put my hand on the dog's head to calm him, and eventually it worked; placating the dog, letting him lay down at my feet. That's the thing a decent man would do to help his fellow man, right? It was an obvious misunderstanding from both camps, and both parties needed help. So I'd keep my hand on the dog and gesture for the man to continue on his way, but each time, he just stood there and rattled something aggressive-sounding in Greek. I had to tell them that I don't understand Greek, and then gesture elaborately until he understood that this was not my dog, and that I was sorry for this mishap regardless. I never heard an "ευχαριστώ," and so I felt like an arse for trying, when they probably walked away wondering why I hadn't acknowledged their request for me to keep my dog on a leash. Even after I had said, "δεν μιλώ ελληνικά," they continued speaking in rapid-fire Greek. But there's something to be said (in English) for that -- naturally it was a high-stress situation and they'd be relieved. Maybe the aggression wasn't directed at me, per se, so I would assume he was asking something like, "What the heck is wrong with that dog?" to which I would shrug helpfully. The first time, though, there were a few Greek women walking by who started chastising the dog after I had calmed him down. They seemed to be on the same page and we exchanged smiles.

Bingo. Connection.

The dogs are generally very sweet creatures who lovingly approach you and let you pet them. They genuinely want to help; they're just simpletons.
I was all dressed up nicely too, but no, I had to fight off stray dogs.

Why was I dressed nicely......?

υπέροχα νύχτα. 

Yes. :)