Bow-wow-wow-wow-you

    I turned the key in the ignition and for a split-second I heard a sound that almost sounded like words. Memories of my childhood came rushing forth. In her infinite wisdom and adept skills at bullshit that come with her position, my mother told me what the dog says when barking. Bow. Bow wow wow wow wow. Who. Who are you you you?

Being dumb enough and obedient enough to my elders, I believed her. It made perfect sense that the dog only barks at a stranger because he is just making an honest inquiry. The dog is merely a Jehovah’s Witness with fangs, ready to make friends.

A few days after the all-important lesson in dog-speak, I got to make myself known.

Bow. Bow wow wow wow wow?

Sembe.

Bow. Bow wow wow wow wow?

Sembe. This time a little louder, thinking the dog was a bit deaf.

Bow. Bow wow wow wow wow?

SEMBE. Loudly and slowly, just in case the dog was deaf and could read lips.

Then he bit me.

That was the first and last time a dog sank its fangs in my flesh. I have since learnt two things: The whole who-are-you-you-you was my mother’s way of telling me men are dogs (How else can a man understand what a dog says?). Two, “Sembe” in dog-language means “Bite me.”