For the duration of my stay in Kathmandu, the night-times have been marked by the barking of dogs. They bark and bark, and in each of the 7 or 8 places I've lived here, the barking has had a different tone, a different nature. Here, in this place, it is the worst kind of barking, feverish, maddened, distressing. And loud, sometimes the dogs fight literally outside my door. I have no love for these dogs, but I am a short-term guest in this place, their house, so I try and at least remain civil. They, on the other hand, adore me. In spite of my cat-like aloofness, they always try to lick me, jump up on me, follow me around.
I must pull the lock on my bedroom door or else one of the dogs comes into my room and takes things off my floor. She is a spoiled jerk, I caught her in here the other day, and she refused to leave. When I tried to gently push her out of the door, she lay down like an activist at a forest blockade. And when I tried to drag her out by the feet, she started biting me. What a jerk, get out of my goddamned room. I pray that the next house will have a better kind of dog-noise at night time.
Now, one month on, I am in a house which is indeed better for dog-noise. As I type, there is a dog in the distance, barking out a long soliloquy, rich in timbre and rhythm, sweeping up and down its familiar canine tonality. This may have bothered me some time ago, but not these days.
My heart stopped two days ago when I heard that they have begun killing the street dogs in my old neighbourhood, by feeding them poison. Kanchi, Dorje and Punx were always escaping and causing mischief on the streets, the idea of their accidental murder was unbearable, those same three dogs I had so viciously slated in this very blog post. Such a relief when I saw their healthy, noisy faces. Jerks they may be, but lovable all the same.
Here, in my new house, there are other kinds of noise. In the daytime, the construction site next door provides hammering, angle-grinding, etc. Between 5 and 6 in the morning, it's the temple bells, which get rung for a length of time which seems to be increasing each day. It sounds like Shiva and Pravati are screening their calls.
I must pull the lock on my bedroom door or else one of the dogs comes into my room and takes things off my floor. She is a spoiled jerk, I caught her in here the other day, and she refused to leave. When I tried to gently push her out of the door, she lay down like an activist at a forest blockade. And when I tried to drag her out by the feet, she started biting me. What a jerk, get out of my goddamned room. I pray that the next house will have a better kind of dog-noise at night time.
Now, one month on, I am in a house which is indeed better for dog-noise. As I type, there is a dog in the distance, barking out a long soliloquy, rich in timbre and rhythm, sweeping up and down its familiar canine tonality. This may have bothered me some time ago, but not these days.
My heart stopped two days ago when I heard that they have begun killing the street dogs in my old neighbourhood, by feeding them poison. Kanchi, Dorje and Punx were always escaping and causing mischief on the streets, the idea of their accidental murder was unbearable, those same three dogs I had so viciously slated in this very blog post. Such a relief when I saw their healthy, noisy faces. Jerks they may be, but lovable all the same.
Here, in my new house, there are other kinds of noise. In the daytime, the construction site next door provides hammering, angle-grinding, etc. Between 5 and 6 in the morning, it's the temple bells, which get rung for a length of time which seems to be increasing each day. It sounds like Shiva and Pravati are screening their calls.
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