“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war.
William Shakespeare, ‘Julius Caesar’, Act 3 scene 1
I started off today’s blog with a post in mind that was a bit of a follow on to yesterday’s tale about Oscar the cat, but as I gathered my thoughts together another story came to mind which I will share with you first. You’ll get the other tomorrow, all being well. I’m sure you can hardly wait )
I was reminded about a friend of mine called Donald. Every time I spoke to Donald he was making arrangements for me to go to his house or him to come to mine. The arrangements very seldom seemed to come off, and I knew why. You see Donald was terrified of dogs, I mean petrified, and consequently always made some sort of excuse for not turning up.
One day, however, he did, along with a mate of his called Harry, who had no such intense fears. They always phoned in advance to make sure I would be at home so I knew about the visit and was prepared.
In our house at that time the front door opened into a fairly large hall. Off the hall, directly facing the front door and slightly to the left, there was a corridor, and separating the two was a mahogany ‘Georgian’ type door, which instead of being solid wood is made in the form of a window to take small glass panes, in this case about about seven inches wide by about nine long.
Why is this important? Well, because normal people in a normal house would have the ‘Georgian’ door glazed, either with clear or ornamental glass, or sometimes a bit of both. However, in my house I hadn’t done any glazing, not because I hadn’t gotten around to it which would usually be the case, but because when it was glazed it made a solid barrier and I couldn’t hear anyone at the front door.
So, as I was saying, Donald and Harry duly arrived. I was prepared and the dog was in the study down the hall, not able to get to the front door, which I opened and let the two guys into the hall.
As I let them in I was all the while reassuring Donald that the dog was down in the study and the door connecting the corridor to the hall was firmly shut so there was no need to worry.
Not quite taking my word for it, Donald’s head peered slowly round the front door, survey the landscape and seeing that the adjoining door was indeed shut got a boost of confidence and courage and walked manly-like into the hall.
We only had to go three or four steps and we were in the sitting room, but then fate took a hand.
The dog heard the strange voices and came to investigate. First he stuck his head around the study door and took a good look at the strangers. The strangers in turn, particularly Donald took an even better look at him and for about a second, maybe two, that was all that happened.
Then the dog decided he needed a closer look and walked towards the door. To my surprise Donald did the same to get a better look at the dog. Strangely enough he liked dogs, and would even have liked one of his own, but he was just so very, very afraid of them.
And then one of those once in a million things happened.
The dog didn’t like the idea of Donald heading in his direction and started to move forwards towards the hall, not running but quite quickly. Until he got to the door, which was firmly closed.
Now you are probably expecting the door to burst open or for the dog to somehow open it. But it was much better than that.
The dog kept on walking towards the door, now starting to bear his teeth a little to emphasize his displeasure at these interlopers in his house. Donald, surprisingly, stood his ground content that he was safe, but only for a couple of seconds, because when the dog got to the door, mysteriously and very ominously for Donald, his head kept on coming into the hall — through the unglazed part of the door that was tightly shut and that poor Donald thought had glass in it.
One and on the dog came. First the nose, then the eyes, then the ears, then the neck, then more of the neck – it was all a bit like that scene in Terminator 2 where the liquid metal robot pushes through the locked gate in the mental hospital.
Of course the unglazed panel was far too small to allow the dog’s shoulders and body through, but in Donald’s head there was no time for rational thought, this dog had super powers and could walk through solid objects!
I could partially see the look on Donald’s face. It really was priceless. It had changed from complete confidence, through equally complete disbelief and momentarily he turned his head towards me and his friend Harry with a clear “How can this be? What’s happening? What kind of place is this? Explain it and quick, FFS!” look etched over his face.
But I hadn’t time to answer, not that I could have anyway, I was in stitches laughing at the whole show. Then Donald’s ‘fright & flight’ reaction kicked in and he bolted for the front door clawing furiously at locks and bolts and door handles to get out of this terrifying and inexplicable place.
He never did come back to see me after that!
But did he have some story to tell when he got home.
Have you had similar experiences? Send them along. Let the world know what is happening before it is too late.