Gilda*

“Most things you consider evil or wicked are simply lonely, and lacking in the social niceties.”

Tim Burton’s Big Fish

A stray dog living in my neighborhood. As most stray dogs there’s a certain territory she claims ownership on and it was no wonder she took quite an interest in me and Vincent the first time we intruded her kingdom. I was terrified by her-a big up to my waist tall dog, filthy and mean looking, running towards me and my precious Vincent. Of course we ran away; she looked very disappointed.

I tried to avoid close encounters with her quite successfully for years. Every time she’d see us she would rush in our direction and me and Vincent would run like the wind away from her. She was so persistent in her chase that we had to make turns right and left on little streets to escape her.

One day I didn’t see her coming. I noticed Gilda when she was already next to me and running was absolutely futile. She looked straight into my eyes and bit my hand-very gently, not to hurt me; she pressed her teeth against my skin strong enough so that I could not take my hand out of her mouth. I did the only thing possible-I started to fondle her back and scratch her behind the ears until she released me and I stopped. And then she bit my hand again and I had to start all over. She wanted some more caresses and I delivered it. When she decided she had had enough loving from me she let me go. We’re pals ever since. Every morning we pass by her, she awakes and yawns, stretches a bit and joins us. She is visibly very well fed and my only guess is she comes with us simply because she enjoys our company. Sometimes she’s quite playful-she runs in high speed against Vincent and pushes him with her chest like a battering ram; then she looks at me impishly waiting for my reaction.

A few days the three of us were walking again around the blocks. At some moment I lost her out of my sight and I turned around to see if she was coming. She was-only limping. There was something wrong with her right back foot and she was obviously in pain. She didn’t let me even touch it so I had to talk to her for a few minutes (I strongly believe there’s a point in talking to dogs-they do understand so you better mean well). I must have been convincing because she finally made her mind whether I could be trusted and allowed me to take a look at her paw. There was a piece of glass ran into it. It was a very delicate moment-I was on my knees, my face and arms were in the perfect reach of her teeth; I was aware I might cause her pain and I was absolutely clueless about her reaction. Frankly speaking, I was very afraid. But it wasn’t a matter of choice-the dog was in need and there was no one else to help her so it had to be me. Gilda was so cool the whole time and stayed motionless until I finished. Oh, the sight of her running happily afterwards! She not only saw us to our block but she climbed the stairs up to my apartment! It felt good to be appreciated.

* Gilda – a character from Giuseppe Verdi’s opera “Rigoletto”. Nothing artistic about my Gilda: