BG 22 – The Dog Dance

Her daily walk through Quiet Belgian Village takes The Maakster over the Noensewegel, a narrow, asphalted path for cyclists and walkers. With on the left, purposely hidden from view by greenery, a quiet cemetery and a slightly less quiet institution for the mentally handicapped, and on the right, behind a ditch with scattered pollard willows, pastures that in summer are grazed in turn by a group of cows.

This morning, preceded by loud yapping, a pretty young woman comes from the opposite direction, pulled along by a noisy chihuahua and an equally enthusiastic little poodle, whose leash reels she holds with one hand. The little creatures don’t listen at all to her admonitions to just be quiet. With her other hand she struggles to hold a lit cigarette and a pack of tobacco. Whenever she takes a drag from the cigarette, she bends over as to not drop anything.

When the dogs reach The Maakster, they frolic noisily around her legs, causing the dog leashes to wrap around her.
“Sorry, sorry,” The Young Woman mumbles, “they don’t bite!” and she stoops to inhale again.
“No problem.” The Maakster laughs while she turns around her axis together with the little yelpers. To free her, The Young Woman, bent down and blowing out smoke, walks a few circles around her in the opposite direction, as if they were performing a strange old ritual together.
When the straps are finally untangled and the noisy dogs drag The Young Woman along the path again, The Maakster cheerfully calls after them: “See you soon!”