My first dog was a puppy I picked up on a whim from a litter of fourteen found under the house of a neighbour.
His name translated to english would be “Pearly Teeth Strong as Diamonds”, or the shortened name could be translated to a very feminine “Pearl”, which he didn’t care much about which reminds me of what Shakespeare once said… “call a dog by any other name, but on wet days it would still stink like one” or something like that.
The first dog, Pearly Teeth Strong as Diamonds (henceforth shortened to PTSD), grew up to be a very ferocious dog, who sort of became the alpha dog of the area.We believed in freedom and expression of individuality of all family members, and hence never had the heart to chain our dog, or even leash him.This led to him being an absentee guard dog at our house.The boarding and lodging was ok but his pay was lousy, so we didn’t press him to do his guard dogly duties too hard.
He grew up strong and muscular by supplementing his rations with food from the neighbourhood houses that he additionally guarded by mostly chasing away cats and squirrels.
The only time he met his match was when the elephants came.
He had never seen an elephant in his life before.To him, he was the biggest fish in his small pond. But on the day the elephant came, he was scared shitless.
The elephant was lazily grazing on our hardly tended garden-tentatively plucking leaves, uprooting shrubs , and dismantling shoots.PTSD, came charging with his usual bravado, and denied entrance to the elephant handlers who were trying to gain access to the premises of our compound.
But one look at the elephant, PTSD bolted back towards the inside of the house (a place where he liked to nap on hot and sunny afternoons. He started barking crazily from inside.
His thought processes must have gone “Holy shit! That’s one huge ugly dog! And it smells bad too! It’s gotta tail in the front as well as in the back. How the fuchsia am I ever gonna beat this thing!”
Thats how PTSD developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Every time he came across elephant dung on the streets, he would run back home, hide under the sofa and start barking mad.