Beware of Dog

I live in a semi-rural neighbourhood where city by-laws do not apply to dogs and the SPCA has no jurisdiction.  The kind of place where you build a fence to keep other dogs away, not to keep your own contained.  Now in all honestly, the majority of people control their dogs, walk them on leash if they don't play nice when other dogs are around.  Most of the dogs in the first circle of my neighbourhood are the small, yappy, 'I'd kill ya if I could get to ya' type.  But move out into the next circles of my area and things change dramatically in size and disposition, a la Dante's nine circles of hell.  I'm thankful for the fencing every time I walk by two very specific properties with the prominently displayed Beware of Dog signs while the dogs race barking and snarling along the fence line, all teeth and asshole.  And I walk very quickly and quietly -- trying not to let the tag on my dog's collar jingle -- past a few more.  These are the places where the dogs roam free.  The kind that approach with hackles raised.  The kind that wait until you walk past before launching a rear attack.  The kind where the dogs come racing out intent on quenching their blood lust -- even when their owners are standing there saying nothing until I yell at them to call off their dogs.  I'm not afraid of dogs.  I can snarl and bark too, let them know who the alpha dog is.  But they scare the crap out of my dog who will yelp like she's having a limb amputated and try to escape if she so much as detects hostility from an approaching dog.

Which brings me to the Camino, oddly enough.  In all the books I read before I left, I continually encountered a common theme -- 'Beware of feral dogs.' Apparently they roam in packs in some of the small, near abandoned little towns that dot the Way.  But like I said before, I'm not afraid of dogs (says she who has never run into a feral dog, let alone a pack.)  I figured I would be safe, armed with my long pointy walking stick to defend myself.  No problem...right?

Well, let me introduce you to The Feral Dogs of the Camino...

This little guy was mooching at a cafe but he wanted to be patted more than he wanted to be fed.  Sure, he was matted and dirty and kind of gross, but hey -- that's what hand washing is for...

Three guesses what this guy wanted...

This handsome fellow would't even make eye contact...

And this happy duo were the resident dogs at one of the most fabulous albergues we stayed at...

Here's the closest I came to a 'feral dog' -- and he ran in the other direction when I called out to him...

The one place I heard had a reputation for the marauding ferals was a very small semi-abandoned village called Foncebadon.  I managed to walk on by before these killers even knew I was there...

All this isn't to say that there aren't feral dogs lurking about, waiting for straggling pilgrims on which to dine.  It just wasn't my experience.  As for my own neighbourhood, methinks it might be wise to start arming myself with a long pointy stick.

Especially when I venture out into the seventh circle.