Street Dogs

At night, there is continual barking and howling from the streets outside. We noticed it the first night we were here. Some nights it is not as bad, but other nights it goes on and on and on. It has kept one or the other or all of us up on occasion, even though our windows are closed and we are way off the street. It sounds like hundreds of dogs sometimes.

We started seeing them on our walks. The dogs are everywhere. But they especially love to be in parks. I thought I was only imagining that there were so many stray dogs in the play areas until my Russian teacher told me that one park in particular was the best mainly because there aren't as many dogs roaming.

These dogs are the big kind. I'd guess German Shepherd and Lab, maybe Retriever, with a little Doberman or Rottweiler thrown in for good measure. Many of them are as tall as Henry or taller.

Now, I appreciate a beautiful dog. I appreciate a loyal dog. I appreciate a well-trained dog. I plan on joining my boys in convincing their dad that we need a Beagle when we get back to the States. But these dogs? I hate them. They scare me and they scare my boys.

We have had three encounters with the animals in the last week or so, two of which almost made me have to bust out my mother bear/Xena Warrior Princess moves. And I don't like that. I prefer other ways of achieving an adrenaline rush, thank you very much.

One day we were walking just outside of our building and crossing a little alleyway. Calvin was a little ahead of me and as soon as he stepped into the alley, I heard the bounding and woof-woof-woof breathing/barking of a huge dog coming up the alleyway in our direction, straight for my boy. I couldn't see him yet but I heard that awful sound and yelled at Calvin just as he saw the dog himself. He screamed and ran the few steps back to me just as a huge dog lept toward him and saw me instead. Heh, heh, heh. The dog turned in mid air when I yelled and swung my sweater at him.(I am one scarey chic, huh?) He ran back down the way he had come. Meanwhile, Calvin was clinging to the back of my pant leg.

Yesterday I had Charlie and Henry in the stroller a few blocks away and we were walking by an open area with a short brick wall on the sidewalk side of it and a play area on the other. There in the open grassy area were FIFTEEN dogs. FIFTEEN. They were all laying there, mostly not moving, and I couldn't believe how many were in one place. I stopped before passing to take a few pictures, then continued.

Henry caught sight of the play area and asked if we could go in. I told him no because of all the dogs. He hopped out of his seat and said he wanted to walk on the little wall to the end and before I could think, he hopped up on it. Six or seven of the fifteen dogs jumped to their feet and started barking like crazy, and four of them bounded toward Henry, the closest one almost jumped onto his chest and would have knocked him over if I hadn't snatched him off the wall and screamed at the dogs.


They retreated and Henry crawled into the bottom of the stroller and covered his head with his arms and was crying. He calmed down a little once we rolled away, but he wouldn't move his arms from over his head the whole way home and fell asleep that way.

The thing is, the dogs are mostly more afraid of us than anything and both times, they have gone away when a larger person (me) yells at them. But what about the one time that there's a crazy one, who doesn't care and isn't afraid? And can smell that I am?

It freaks me out that both times, they came after someone little first. And that someone little was not bothering them in the least. What if I'm not close enough to protect my kids?

I know two people who were attacked by dogs as children - dogs who were domesticated and supposedly kid-friendly. Which these dogs are not. These dogs are hungry and wild. (Except for the dozen or so that this lady has taken in to beg for/with).

David has offered to get me a dog stick. But I don't want to hurt them, I really don't. I just want them to not exist, so that I don't have to worry about them.

Someone told us that every now and then the city officials think the dog problem has gotten out of control, so they toss out poison all over the city. David said, "Oh great, so then you have a bunch of dead dogs on the streets instead of a bunch of live ones?" And the person answered, "No. Worse. The dogs that don't get enough poison to kill them are everywhere. So there's a bunch of writhing, howling, dying but not quite dead dogs on the streets."

Maybe the city would hire me to swing my sweater at them until they all run away from the city and go live with their wolf brothers out on the steppe.