Mekhala: the saviour at the gate
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Safety, hygiene and dangers that lurk on the Soi
WHENEVER I take my poodle-pup Wan-Wan out for a walk, I’m as careful as possible.
Even before we go out the gate, I check the patio next door to see if Mee, my neighbour’s part-chow, is inside. If she’s there, it’s safe for my dog to go out. If she’s not, it’s possible that she’s upstairs, and it’s still safe.
Today, I don’t see Mee, and since it’s early afternoon, I assume that Mee’s upstairs. J never takes her dog out at this time.
I’m wrong. Wan and I have just come outside and I’m locking the gate when I turn and see Mee. She’s about 20 metres away when she sees Wan.
Mee is not a vicious dog. The minute she sees Wan, she bursts into a big doggie-smile and comes running to us.
Both Wan and I have faced Mee before, when she knocked Wan down and nosed her belly. I know that she wouldn’t hurt Wan on purpose, but she’s so big compared to my tiny dog that she could cause a lot of injuries just by playing with her.
This time, I’m ready. I reach for Wan – but I’m not fast enough, and Mee jumps on my dog and knocks her over.
Wan screams in fear, I push Mee away with my knee and lift my dog up and away from her. I manage to push Mee away again and rush into the patio – but I can’t close the gate. It opens outwards, onto the soi, and Mee is blocking it.
I run to the door to my house as Mee, barking joyously, starts after us.
We need someone to save us, but no one else is on the soi, and I don’t see J anywhere.
Guess what! Our saviour is Mekhala, my white cat.
Mekhala has been sleeping on a shelf in the patio when she hears Mee. Now, this cat absolutely hates Mee. Let the dog stick even one nostril through the gate, and Mekhala is there with her razor-sharp claws to injure Mee anyway she can.
Now, for the first time in her life, she’s actually face-to-face with the hated enemy, with no gate in between. She jumps down to the patio floor and confronts the dog.
Imagine a cat weighing four kilos against a 35-kilo dog 15 centimetres away.
Mekhala, moaning like a ghost, raises a paw. At first, Mee thinks it’s a game, but the cat is serious. She’s going to kill Mee if she can.
Luckily Mee has the sense not to try to pass Mekhala. A few seconds later, J appears, just in time to save her dog if not from death, then from severe mutilation.
The next day, over the low wall between our two houses, J calls to me. “I’ll pay for any treatment Wan needs, injections, surgery, anything,” she says. Actually, Wan hasn’t been injured at all, just a few minor scratches.
“I love Wan,” J says with tears in her eyes. “I’d never do anything to hurt her.”
J faces another big problem. Other neighbours on our soi have started complaining. Mee’s a big dog, and when J takes her on a walk and she urinates, it’s a waterfall.
No one wants Mee messing the front of their homes.
“What can I do?” J weeps. Mee refuses to urinate in her house. It’s necessary to take her out for a walk twice a day.
I’ll tell how I try to help J and her dog next week.
Right now, I’m dealing with a cat who’s extremely proud of herself. She struts around the house triumphantly, with a suitably grateful Wan following behind.
