January 7, 2011
Today I pulled out my running shoes and hit the streets. Running in Kazakhstan is always an experience. You see, in the land of sheep and horses, dogs are just one more thing that wanders freely across the terrain. They appear out of nowhere, bark like grizzly bears, and if you're running, they are quick to become your shadow.
Generally, the pups are harmless. I just turn into the Pied Piper of Kulan by the time I complete my circuit. Super! Like I'm not already attracting enough attention as the "Running American." Let's add a pack of canines.
I guess I picked the wrong street today. As my shoes carried me past a seemingly quiet cluster of houses a mid-sized mutt and a petite Pomeranian-looking thing came lunging at me from under a fence. The mutt was all bark, but that darn Pomeranian had a set of chompers on him. I tried to ignore him, but he got my sweatpants. Twice! Why is it always the little ones that cause problems?
Next time, I'm running with a rock. Pomeranian, stand guard… this is war.
I had a host brother once who carried a taser to scare away the dogs. You could try it... forget PC policy. It worked quite well. Until he decided it would be funny to taunt the american with the taser. Guess what? Not funny!! He never actually got me but damn he came close a few times. Can't say he's a host brother I am missing very much these days. Anyway... good luck with the dogs and a pocket full of rocks!
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