Skip to main content

CONFLICT RESOLUTION WITH MOBY

The handsome brute in the picture is Moby, my beloved mongrel. I found him abandoned in a car park with his siblings, aged one month, and I adopted him. Who needs breeding? Just look at the noble lines, the aristocratic bearing. Even his legs are in proportion with his body, a comparative rarity for a dog of dubious parentage.

Moby is the canine equivalent of a Kray twin - I’m not sure which one, I always get my psychotic thugs confused – the one ex-Spandau Ballet star Gary Kemp most convincingly portrayed in the film (I bet that casting director never worked in movies again – he’s probably a TEFL teacher in Ulan Bator.)

Walking the streets with Moby is like going on a pub crawl with a distant Irish cousin who hasn’t been sober since Live Aid. I spend the entire time engaged in conflict resolution, dragging him out of fights and helping him intimidate aggressive strays – not that he needs any help, normally. Even cocky Pit Bulls start hyperventilating as he approaches. Strange, because he’s so affable with most people, except skateboarders, joggers, the postman and our wicked neighbour.

Only once has he got embroiled in an ugly scrap, when a yappy little big-eared mongrel, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Joe Pesci's character in Goodfellas, made an ill-advised attempt to bite Moby's elegant snout. Passing schoolchildren ended up running home in tears as the big guy picked up his assailant by the neck and shook him like a freshly rinsed cos lettuce, before tossing him across the road like a salad (to keep to green leaf similes.) I don't know where he learned that move, but I think word got around town, as now most dogs pretend they haven't seen him or sidle away silently as he struts past.

If any local councillor or the local police chief is reading, a friendly warning. The situation in this hamlet is getting critical mutt-wise. The ratio of stray dogs to people appears to have grown to about 3:1. No community so swamped with hounds can hope to walk long with unsoiled footwear...

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FOOLING WITH SCHOOLING

One of the commonest figures to be found within TEFL is the aspiring administrator. This is a teacher who, often drained by years of repetitive, poorly remunerated clowning around in the classroom, seeks a position managing other teachers, such as Director of Studies (aptly and attractively known as "Doss"), from which they can sit in an imaginary TEFL director’s chair smoking a cigar, bellowing, “CUT!” and enjoying not having to pull a linguistic rabbit out of a hat twelve times a day, five days a week. I include myself within this TEFL subgenre, although my past experiences of administration have left me with an odd yearning to get back into the classroom and be king of my own modest sandcastle. In 2005, whilst I was working in HR at a local factory, my Brazilian friend Bert and I decided to start our own school. I had recently managed to wriggle out of a honey trap I’d set for myself, when I offered to give a free English course to my colleagues in the factory’s Training a...
19 comments
Read more

I AM OFFICIALLY A TIT

Show recently extracted the wind from my sails with typically well-intentioned down-to-earthism. Armed with several diagrams and a kitchen knife , she extolled her opinion that I should concentrate on doing what I can do and stop fannying around trying to learn how to do things I can’t , in yet another feeble-minded attempt to divorce myself from TEFL. Yet again, I believe her to be right. It all started back in May, when I went to Poland with my male voice choir and on the plane to Frankfurt found myself sitting next to Jetro, one of our second tenors. I’d never really spoken to him before, but during the trip I discovered that he ran a small yet growing Internet company , an online system through which owners of used car dealerships could manage their businesses. He explained how previously he’d been something of a factotum, working around the country in various jobs and starting various businesses, until he discovered that he could neither work for somebody nor manage others –...
16 comments
Read more

NO MORE A-CUSSIN'

In an effort to rid himself of the habit of using foul language at the slightest provocation , a Facebook chum recently asked for suggestions for harmless expressions he could use in front of his Gran and her bingo clique during moments of high stress, astonishment and/or extreme disappointment. I weighed in with, " Crikey! " and, " Great Scott! " Please feel free to add your suggestions, and help to make the world a tiny bit less like a trucker's stopover in Eindhoven .
12 comments
Read more