I Don’t Blame Her

We’re getting our enormous diesel-guzzling bakkie (trans.: SUV, truck) fixed and as she’s not mobile at the moment, we had to rent a flat-bed trailer for the day in order to get her to the mechanic in Springs.

Pulling up in the road in front of our gate with a clanking, rattling length of trailer behind the car – and it was twice the length of the car at least – the noise attracted Taranis and Scylla to the front gate.

Now Scylla is fairly short-sighted – a failing I’m beginning to share with her at the age of 53  – and she didn’t recognise the Legendary Car or its occupants for quite some time.

Don’t ask me how you can read a dog’s emotions in its eyes alone. Scylla wasn’t barking or growling, her hackles weren’t raised and she was just standing there, in typical PitBull-ready stance, quietly.

But both Warren and I recognised in her eyes a look we can only describe as angry.

The girl was glaring at the perceived intruders with such a look of implacable rage that, if I hadn’t known and loved her for 8 years now, I would have backed away from that gate in a hurry.

And you know – given the trauma she was branded with at the hands of RSS “Security” Services 4 years ago – I don’t blame her at all.

Pic: Spy Centres 1 and 2, here at Command Central.

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