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>>>  rloucka@akumulatordog.cz <<< Radko Loučka (Director of RR)

It’s Christmas time in a city

It’s early December and Prague looks prettier than ever. The city is all dolled up for Christmas with store windows dressed up to catch your attention and people milling around and minding their own business.  It’s close to 4 p.m. and the streetlights are already on as it is rapidly turning dark. My husband and I stand on the sidewalk waiting for a chance to cross the street. We’re on our way home, a bit tired but content with our Christmas purchases

There is a large store on the other side with a huge sign that reads: Fish, Poultry and Game. 
I can see dozens of pheasant, quail and hare next to fat chickens, ducks and geese all displayed at the window. Then my eye catches a familiar movement. I see a gorgeous German shepherd suddenly stopping dead in his tracks, his nose up in the air, his tail straight out as if pulled by someone behind him. My eyes follow to where his nose is pointing and now I see the source of his scent. About ten yards in front of him, where the Fish, Poultry and Game store is, stands an old fashioned wooden cart with a huge, nasty looking body of a boar on it. The boar lies spread eagle on the cart, his head hanging over the edge, his nose almost touching the sidewalk.

The dog’s nose is still up in the air and moving from left to right and then left again in small increments as he reads the air. He does not see the boar yet; there are people on the sidewalk that are blocking his view.

I nudge Ludvik and point to the scene developing across the street right in front of our eyes. The shepherd starts to move forward, his tail still straight out, head lower now, his nose pointing toward the boar. Three, four tentative steps and now he sees it!  His body stiffens. His tail goes up. He leans back a little to have a better chance at jumping away should he need to do so. I can almost see the quiver of his leg muscles.  He stands there for what seems like eternity.

 The woman with him is window shopping just a few feet away and unaware of her dog’s dilemma. Is this thing going to fight him?  It sure smells like something dangerous, but its body language seems to invite play. I mean, in a dog’s life, noses close to the ground and the rear end up are a certain invitation for a fine game of tag. The two animals are facing each other, and I marvel at the opportunity to witness such drama.  Now the dog starts to relax, his body straightens up. The tail goes down a little and his head and the ears go up. It’s as if he’s asking: “Just what IS this thing”. He moves closer. He is now no more than 3 feet away. It is obvious that he wants to greet this animal in a friendly fashion, and he wishes to be given some sign that it’s all right to do so. He stretches his neck out. His body is tense again and ready for a fight or flight. The two noses are almost touching now.

It was at this moment that the woman turned around and saw her dog. She called his name and his ears flickered. He knew that he should obey her, but was in no position to turn his head now. Couldn’t she see that? If he looks away now this thing might attack him AND her!

Her hand came down hard on the dog’s neck. She pulled him away very unceremoniously, scolding him, and I could just hear that dog screaming in protest. “These humans know nothing, really, and they have bad manners”. His eyes never left the strange beast, his head turning as he was being dragged forward and away. When her hand finally released the scruff of his neck, he shook his head and keeping pace with her fast step, looked up and touched her side with his enormous head. As if to say: “OK, I forgive you for being human”.

Eva Cecil and Nessie,
Prague

December 2000