The sun was shining. Nevertheless, it was raining. Of course, there was a rainbow. There almost always is if you happen to be standing in the right place at the right time. Sandra was out at sea, diving, playing with dolphins or playing at being a dolphin. Sultain (my dog) and I had walked the mile or so from the house to Titou Gorge to take a river bath.
We were delayed. Some tourists were there and out of consideration, we decided to wait until they were done frolicking under the falls. No point in disillusioning them; their secret rainforest grotto was my bath. It was my lucky day… Issa was there with cold beers to sell. I sipped the oldest manmade alcoholic beverage, silently thanking the Sumerians for discovering the joys of fermentation.
Big dogs evoke distinct emotions. Some folks are automatically afraid of them. Some fall in love …”what a nice doggie, come here boy, aren’t you pretty, etc.” Sultain is indifferent to both types of people. Other dogs however, interest him greatly. Elvis (I kid you not), a local Rasta, shows up with his part Rottweiler; also male. They have also come for a bath and also decide to wait out the visitors. Both Elvis and I are a little wary. Two big male dogs often end up, like many men and many nations, attempting to prove their virility and self-worth by getting violent.
These two, however, seem content to play and compete in peeing on anything above the horizontal. A harmless one-upmanship contest. We relax. Elvis, being young and single, decides to invite a young lady visitor, wearing a bikini, to swim farther up the gorge and climb the waterfall. “I’ll watch the dogs,” I say. That was my first mistake.
A few moments later, I am engrossed in a conversation with the tourists. The dogs get into it behind my back. I turn around to see them both locked jaw to neck. I grab both by the scruff to pull them apart. That’s my second mistake.
I manage to get them separated but the tussle ends with all three of us bleeding. (And all 3 will end up with scars; mine the biggest).
All that is really no big deal in the universal scheme of things. My third mistake was, however, definitely recorded in the Akashic and Karmic records. I had Sultain sitting in one corner under threat of something dire and had gone to check on and comfort Elvis’ Rotty. I was sitting beside him, looking at his wounds, deciding he needed stitches, and talking to him to calm him down. Well, kind of singing really.
Unnoticed by me, Elvis had returned. There I was, his dog’s head in my bloody hands, singing, “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time.”
He didn’t say a word. He just took his dog and off he went. I’ll long remember the hurt and confusion in his eyes. It matched perfectly what I had seen in his dog’s eyes.
A few minutes later, the tourists left and Sultain and I went in for our bath; now needing it more than before. Our wounds looked better after they were washed.
They say there is a lesson in everything. What did I learn? The same as Pontius Pilate, Lady Macbeth and many others…blood stains are hard to get rid of.