Keeping the neighbourhood peace
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Is wild Manohra disturbing fellow residents with her loud screams?
MY POODLE Wan-Wan and I are just finishing our daily walk when we hear a terrible scream – no, not a scream, a shriek that echoes up and down our soi.
My heart sinks. I recognise that shriek. So does Wan, who whines and pulls on her lead. She needs to go home.
The shrieks grow louder; Wan’s need to get home grows more urgent. We’re only around 30 metres away. I let go of the lead, and Wan runs to the gate, looking at me and whining. She needs to go inside.
When we enter the house, we see what we both expected. Old man Phantom has cornered Wild Child Manohra. The elderly cat hasn’t said anything, but Manohra is yelling her heart out, all those shrieks we heard so far down the soi.
Manohra doesn’t know (and I guess Phantom doesn’t either) that the old boy isn’t strong enough to bite her. I doubt if he’s even strong enough to injure her much with his claws. Old age and arthritis have reduced his fighting skills.
Yet here’s Manohra, broadcasting what she feels about Phantom.
Manohra is a cat who constantly tells the world about the dislike she feels for other cats. Her high-pitched screams have become a morning occurrence, as she yells at Yoyo, who doesn’t like her either.
Gradually, I’m able to calm her down, and we can finish our chores without her shrieks. No harm done.
Yet on today’s walk, I suddenly realise just how loud and piercing those shrieks are. Inside the house, her screams are loud, but I haven’t realised how far the sound carried, until I hear it so easily from 30 metres away.
Then I realise how much my neighbours have been disturbed. No one appreciates such terrible screams, especially in the quiet of the morning.
No one has ever complained about Manohra. I guess people think she’s outside somewhere, probably a lady cat in heat.
I just received complaints about my dog, though. When we go on a walk, Wan, of course, pees and poos occasionally. I put her poo in a plastic bag to throw away at home, but I’ve never worried about the pee. Wan is a small dog, after all, and her pee couldn’t be much more than a tablespoon.
The other day, a man came up to me and told me that people don’t like my dog peeing on the soi, a small soi adjacent to mine. “If someone sees her doing it, they might call the police,” he said.
He also pointed to a sign on the side of one of the houses, which asks people not to allow their dogs to pee on that soi.
I was a bit annoyed, especially since he was walking his dog too. I didn’t want to argue, though. The man was bigger than I am; his dog was bigger than mine. People can do unkind things to little dogs.
Besides, the man was within the law. He really could make a complaint against my dog to the police. He looked heartless enough to do it, too.
Thus, we no longer walk down that soi. Wan isn’t too happy. Lots of people on that soi like to play with her when they see her.
I am reminded (yet again) how someone’s pets might disturb the neighbourhood. You might not think your animal is disturbing anyone, but you still have to be vigilant.
Inside my house, I still haven’t solved the problem of Manohra’s shrieking. Some mornings, she’s good. Sometimes she’s not.
Wan is no help. The only one who supports the Wild Child, Wan attacks anyone who threatens her friend, even if it’s Phantom.
Phantom, however, understands, “Get away from Manohra! Now!” As he moves slowly towards his food bowl, I feel thankful.
At least one of us understands about keeping the peace.
