by David Michie
CHAPTER ONE
Have you ever marveled, dear reader, at how the most apparently trivial of decisions can sometimes lead to the most life-changing events? You make what you believe at the time to be a humdrum, everyday kind of choice, and it has outcomes as dramatic as they are unforeseen.
That was exactly what happened the Monday afternoon I decided that, instead of going home directly, I would take the “scenic” path.
It was not a route I’d taken very often in the past for the simple reason that it wasn’t very scenic. Nor even much of a path. More a humble back alley that ran down behind The Himalaya Book Café and adjacent premises.
It was, however, a longer way home and would take me ten minutes rather than the usual five to get back to Jokhang. And having spent the afternoon asleep on the magazine rack of the café, I felt the need to stretch my legs.
So instead of turning right when I reached the front door, I headed left. Ambled past the open side doors of the café. And turned left again, along the narrow lane used for garbage bins, redolent with kitchen scraps and intriguing aromas.
I continued on my way, somewhat wobbly since my hind legs had been weak since I was a kitten. I paused once to cuff at an intriguing silver and brown object lodged under the rear grill gate of the café, only to discover that it was a champagne cork that had somehow got jammed.
It was as I was preparing to turn left again, that I first became aware of danger. Up on the main street, about 20 yards away, were two of the largest and most ferocious looking dogs I had ever seen. Strangers to the district, they were a menacing presence as they stood, nostrils flared and long fur gusting in the late afternoon breeze.
Worst of all, they were unleashed.
With the wisdom of hindsight, what I should have done at that point was retreat back to the alley, and through the café’s rear gates, where I would have been completely secure behind bars wide enough for me, but much too narrow for these monsters.
In the exact moment I was wondering if they had seen me, they did and instantly gave chase.
Instinct kicking in, I turned right and scrambled as fast as my uncertain limbs would take me. Heart pounding and hair standing on end, I raced desperately in search of refuge. In those adrenaline-charged moments, I felt I was fully capable of going anywhere and doing anything: scrambling up the tallest tree or squeezing through the narrowest gap.
But there was no raised ground. No escape route. The dogs’ vicious baying was closing in behind me. In absolute panic, with nowhere else to turn, I darted into a spice shop on the left-hand side of the road. Perhaps I would find a place where I could climb to safety? Or the dogs would be stopped?
It was an informal corner store with wooden chests on which brass bowls of spices were carefully laid out. Several matronly women, grinding powder on their laps, let out cries of shock as I ran past their ankles. Followed by bellows of outrage as the dogs, high on bloodlust, bounded after me.
I heard a crash of metal on concrete as bowls tumbled. Clouds of spices exploded into the air. Racing to the back of the store I discovered no shelf to jump up to. Only a firmly closed door. But I saw a gap between two chests, narrow enough for me to claw through. On the other side was not a wall, merely a plastic sheet. Torn. And beyond the sheet, a deserted gutter.
Shoving their great heads into the gap between the chests, the dogs launched into a frenzy of yapping. Terrified, I quickly scanned the gutter. It was a dead end. The only way out was back to the road.
From inside the spice store came plaintive yelping as the angry women apprehended the two thugs. My usually lustrous white coat smeared with spices of every color, I scampered along the gutter to the road and along it again as fast as my frail legs would take me.
But the road inclined—subtle and punishing. Even though I was straining every sinew of my being, my efforts were to little avail. Struggling to get as far away as I could, I searched around for somewhere, anywhere, that offered protection.
There were only shop windows. Concrete walls. Impenetrable steel gates.
Behind me the commotion of barking continued, with angry yelling, too. I turned to see the women shoving the dogs out of their shop, slapping their flanks as they did. The two slavering beasts stood on the pavement outside, wild eyed and tongues lolling. I continued my exertions, hoping the steady stream of pedestrians and cars would conceal my whereabouts.
But there was to be no escape.
Within moments the two beasts had caught my scent and resumed the chase. Their ferocious growling filled me with pure fear.
I had made up some ground, but it wasn’t a lot. It would take hardly any time at all for the two of them to catch up. Reaching a property with very high, white walls and a black, metal, pedestrian gate, I suddenly saw, to one side of the gate, a wooden trellis. Never before would I have even considered what I was about to do, but what choice did I have? With only seconds before the dogs were upon me, I leapt onto the trellis and began climbing as fast as my fluffy, grey legs would let me. With great lurches I dragged myself up, paw by paw, taking care to curl my tail away from the ground.
I was nearing the top when the beasts closed in. Amid a frenzy of barking they hurled themselves against the trellis. There was a crash of wood as the lattice cracked. The top half swung back wildly. Had I still been on it, I would have been dangled down to the dogs’ gaping maws. But instead I was already standing on the sturdy brick wall.
I looked down at their furious, bared teeth. Trembled at the hideous, blood-curdling snarls. It seemed to me that I was looking directly into the faces of beings from the hell realms.
The manic frenzy of noise continued until the dogs were distracted by another canine further down the street, licking something off the pavement. Racing toward it, they were arrested on the way by a tall man in a tweed jacket who seized them both by their collars and was soon attaching leads. As he was bending over them, a passerby remarked, “Beautiful Labradors!”
“Golden Retrievers,” replied the man. “Young and high spirited. But,” he patted them affectionately, “lovely animals.”
Lovely animals? Had the whole world gone completely mad?!
Hay House Titles of Related Interest
YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE, the movie,
starring Louise L. Hay & Friends
(available as a 1-DVD program and an expanded 2-DVD set)
Watch the trailer at: www.LouiseHayMovie.com
THE SHIFT, the movie,
starring Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
(available as a 1-DVD program and an expanded 2-DVD set)
Watch the trailer at: www.DyerMovie.com
THE FIRST RULE OF TEN, by Gay Hendricks
and Tinker Lindsay
THE MAN WHO WANTED TO BE HAPPY,
by Laurent Gounelle
THE MINDFUL MANIFESTO: How Doing Less and Noticing
More Can Help Us Thrive in a Stressed-Out World,
by Dr. Jonty Heaversedge and Ed Halliwell
All of the above are available at your local bookstore,
or may be ordered by contacting Hay House (see next page).
Hay House Titles of Related Interest
YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE, the movie,
starring Louise L. Hay & Friends
(available as a 1-DVD program and an expanded 2-DVD set)
Watch the trailer at: www.LouiseHayMovie.com
THE SHIFT, the movie,
starring Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
(available as a 1-DVD program and an expanded 2-DVD set)
Watch the trailer at: www.DyerMovie.com
THE FIRST RULE OF TEN, by Gay Hendricks
and Tinker Lindsay
THE MAN WHO WANTED TO BE HAPPY,
by Laurent Gounelle
THE MINDFUL MANIFESTO: How Doing Less and Noticing
More Can Help Us Thrive in a Stressed-Out World,
by Dr. Jonty Heaversedge and Ed Halliwell
All of the above are available at your local bookstore,
; or may be ordered by contacting Hay House (see next page).
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