Currently the media of my country
is caught up in a debate about 'dangerous dogs'
when clearly the danger is in their owners,
but such a comment sounds like NIMBYism.
There the young, who always see the ownership
of their first pet in their own right as completion
of their first household, are presently attracted
to a new breed of large dog, the American XL Bully.
I remember forty years ago when my sister
got her first and only council, flat. Back then
council flats were only rented out to young women
because they were more likely to hold down
poorly paid jobs that had little health and safety,
and be reliable tenants, whereas young men
who were meant to 'get on the housing ladder',
but could not even find 'the employment ladder',
and climbed 'the unemployment ladder' instead.
Council flats had to be allocated in some sort of order.
The first thing my sister did with the tenancy
was get from who-knows-where a large Doberman dog.
Encouraged by her co-habiting boyfriend she called it 'Satan'.
Very occasionally I saw the three of them out socially.
With a heavy dog lead and weak training it pulled them along.
As I looked at them I wondered the oldest question,
'Who was most on a lead there?' and passed on.
When they used the dogs name to it in public
everyone around them gave them a wide berth.
Since I was religious to significant but ignorant degree,
I could find no words to connect with the three of them.
I thought the dogs name absurd at best, and ill chosen.
I never said anything to her because my younger sister
was also somewhat combative. She never took criticism
from anyone who she did not have to agree with.
I sometimes wonder what happened to the dog.
I suspect it was given away, because it was an
unsuitable pet for a council flat as rented out
to a single working woman. But who knows?
My sister may have learned to be more tender
the hard way-through canine bereavement.
If so I hope the lesson learned was heartfelt.
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